Confidants and Rubies
by Constant Comment Tea
Summary: The first word that Judith Cole ever learned was "death," and she became intimately familiar with it over the course of her life. Now 55 years old and with death growing on her mind, it's only reasonable that she seal that intimacy and climb into bed with the coldest embodiment of death she knows. Right?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello! This is the eighth installment of the _Interaction_ series. It's from the POV of a well-established OC, and the relationships in this story are built on about 20+ years of history, so do I recommend reading the others in the series first?

Well, yes, but do what you want, I s'pose. The most helpful story to understanding this one would be _The Art of Vampire Interaction_, which is fairly short, so you could just read that if you want a primer.

For you who are following the _Interaction_ series, no, the seventh story is not currently posted. You didn't miss it, I skipped over it (but am currently in the process of writing it!) for a very good reason, and that reason is that my co-author got impatient. See, this series crosses over with my other series (a Doctor Who crossover called _Blood and Time_), and the most recently finished story in that is _Pull to Open_, which takes place simultaneously with this story. So they have to be posted together, and my _Blood and Time_ co-author didn't want to wait for me to finish Interaction story #7, so here we are.

The things that happen six years earlier in Story #7 do not affect the plot of this story. Story 7 deals with important life events for William and Angel, but they're not brought up here.

And no, you don't have to read _Pull to Open_ to understand this story, even though they happen at the same time (unless you want Angel's POV on what's happening here). If you do want to read _Pull to Open_, then you can find it under the pen name Constant Babble.

**An important note on the content:** There's a fair amount of sex in this story (especially relative to all my other stories), but none of it is very graphic. For shippers who are concerned about just who the sex is between… If you don't want (soon-to-be-obvious) spoilers, skip ahead to the actual story. Right now. There are no further important notes to read before beginning. You're done.

Right, okay, minor spoilers ahead, because I respect the need to make an informed ship decision when fic-ing. The relationship is between Angel and Judith, and it really is sexual, not romantic. I don't ship Angel with any one particular person (anymore), and that perhaps shows in this series. I used to ship A/C pretty devoutly, though, so I do remember and respect that concern and complete turn-off when a ship is just wrong (except _Phoenix Burning_, which is an amazing Bangel story that I loved even back in my hardcore A/C days, and everyone should read it). If it helps, this story was an experiment with a ship that I didn't especially sail, but ended up loving. I hope you'll give it a try and let me know what you think.

* * *

**On Death and Sex**

The first word that Judith Cole ever learned was _death_, and another word could not have been more prescient.

Her understanding of the word began when she found a dead bird while playing outside a funeral home during the viewing for her great-grandfather. It soured with the guilt that came from the fire that killed her best friend in college, and matured with the heart attack that took her father and the undetected brain tumor that took her mother-in-law (with whom she'd had a relationship more meaningful than with her own mother). It had come to briefly include _insanity_ when she thought she'd lost her son.

By the time her great-aunt passed away when Judith was in her early 40s, _death_ had come to mean something synonymous with _inevitability_, but with a flavor of _courage_ and _survivability_.

For herself, of course. For herself, _death_ had become something that she could survive and an opportunity to show her courage-when she felt like she had it.

Which she seemed to be feeling less and less lately. Judith had thought that it would get easier, but when her older brother was killed in a car accident when Judith was 55, her courage felt about as solid and empowering as the steam that she watched rise from her coffee for an hour after she got the news. She even reheated it over and over when it got too cool just to watch the steam rise again; her own version of lighting a candle to help his soul out of whatever purgatory that she didn't believe in.

He had been four years older than her. There was another brother, even older, and none of them had ever been particularly close. The funeral was held in Limerick, where they'd grown up and their mother still lived. Judith sat on one side of their mother while her brother sat on the other as the family priest conducted the service. Only the three of them remained out of an original five-and Judith wondered in a fog of fresh grief if early death was a curse put upon her for some past life's sin. Judith was statistically somewhere around the halfway point in her life, but she couldn't help but think that maybe, if it was a curse (figuratively, though she knew now that the distinction was important), early death was her own lot, as well.

The first word that Judith learned was _death_, but that did not mean that she understood it.

A few nights after she returned from the funeral, when the aftermath of a once-every-century kind of ice storm had loosened its hold on the city, and now-stir-crazy venturers could finally leave their homes, she found herself at the Dragon's Crown, hoping to find the person who would either be most uplifting or most depressing to discuss age, eternity, and mortality with: a 475-year-old vampire.

The Dragon's Crown was their favorite establishment in which to sit and talk. Sometimes they went early enough for Judith to have dinner, and sometimes they were there late enough for the demon patrons to begin arriving. Tonight, it was closer to the latter.

Marty brought them their usuals and threw in a leftover slice of chocolate cake for Judith that the dinner crowd had not eaten. He walked away with a pleased bounce in his step at her grateful smile and gentle touch on his forearm.

Their topics of conversation flowed with the usual things for a while: how her trip went; how William and his wife Kaede were settling into their new house and if there might be baby news soon (it had been several years since the wedding, but a new, larger house seemed like a good omen); and how dreadful all the ice was except that it was perfect weather for reading all day. Judith had finished the cake and was just starting on her second drink by the time she asked,

"Do you remember what your first word was?"

Angel looked mildly surprised and he thought for only a second before shaking his head. "No. Probably something boring and ordinary like 'Ma' or 'Da' or 'tavern wench.'"

Judith laughed. "That was a common first word for your time, was it?"

Angel nodded solemnly. "They don't tell you stuff like that in history class."

Judith _hmm_-ed through a sip of her gin and tonic, feeling more relaxed than she had in about a week. "Well, I've always thought that the world would be in a finer state if history was better taught in schools."

Angel grinned. "And _I've_ always said that tavern wenches were the solution to world peace. So there you go. We agree, for once." He paused. "Why? What was your first word?"

Judith sobered, the tension creeping back into her shoulders like wrapping up in a security blanket. "Death."

The word hung between them, thick with connotations for both. That was, of course, why Judith had brought it up.

After a long, weighted moment, Angel leaned forward across the table. "You're not coping that well about your brother, are you?"

Judith laughed a little. "I guess not," she admitted. "Which is strange, don't you think?"

Angel frowned, confused. "No… He was your brother."

"Not the grief part, the coping part. They're not the same thing, you know."

"Aren't they?"

"Certainly not," she replied, though she wasn't actually so certain. She continued anyway, since sometimes pretending made things so. "Grief is an emotion." She paused briefly. "Coping is processing that emotion."

Yes, that sounded right. Bring it back to definitions: nice and simple. She nodded decisively.

Angel's expression wasn't quite so convinced, though. "Except that sometimes the grief is too big to cope, or the coping methods aren't strong enough to handle the grief. The end result is the same," Angel said, and then sipped the whiskey in his glass. "So which is it?"

Both. Neither? Judith wasn't sure. She'd coped with worse grief before with Evie in college-much worse because of the mountain of guilt that came with it. Her best friend's death hadn't been Judith's fault _directly_, but she and Evie had been in the abandoned house because of Judith's reckless urge, and the fire had started from their combined reckless exploring. Judith's coping methods were trial-by-fire-tested-strong. Almost literally, in that case.

No, what she was feeling now was not worse, and her coping methods were fine. She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's something else entirely."

"Like?"

Judith shook her head, fiddling with the lime wedge on the rim of her gin and tonic. She noticed a vein on the back of her hand was beginning to protrude more than she remembered, and the skin was starting to look weathered. She gave a small smile as she began to realize what it might be, ironic because it was the very thing she thought she'd been handling so well.

"Maybe...it's getting older," she said slowly.

"Oh, come on," Angel said dismissively, "you're not _that_ old. Not for these days, especially."

"I know," Judith said just as dismissively. "I don't actually mind aging; it's a rite of passage that not everyone is fortunate enough to experience...and I actually like the silver hairs. It's not the aging part...it's the getting-closer-to-death part. People around me die young. It could be my turn soon." She looked up to catch his eye and, hopefully, his reaction. But courage failed her again and she looked away before she could decide what he might be thinking.

"It's silly, I know," she added quickly. She could hear the advice from here: Live in the moment. Don't worry about things you can't change. Be happy to be alive today.

"It's not silly," Angel said.

It was responses like that that Judith loved about Angel: so simple, and yet the way he said it connoted centuries of experience and wisdom. More often than not, when he said something, it wasn't something that he simply thought to be true in theory: he knew it to be true because it had happened to him.

Not that Judith always thought he was right about his conclusions, but she was still willing to give them more weight than most.

"Maybe you're right," she said, conciliatory since she didn't really have any of her own evidence to add that wasn't vague and unsettled feelings somewhere in the region of her gut. She gave him a small smile. "I think I'm just having a moment."

"It's understandable," Angel replied. Silence fell for a long while and Judith tried to think of another topic to bring up, since _death_ had apparently failed with the man who had died at least twice.

"I'm not really sure what to say," Angel admitted before she found that other topic, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't really have this problem."

"No," she agreed. "Of course you don't; you don't get older. You don't need to say anything, I'm just talking." Silence fell again and they both looked at their drinks.

After a moment, Judith frowned. "But...don't you?" She looked up. "Not physically, but you must be getting more mature with age; wiser. You may have the body of a 20-something, but in every other respect, you're four hundred and seventy-five. You must have Getting Older moments, too."

It took Angel a moment to respond. "Maybe," he said finally. "In different ways. Getting older for me doesn't mean death."

"Except that you _have_ died," Judith pointed out. "And probably will again, someday. Certainly will, actually, since I doubt you'll survive the end of the universe."

"Yeah…" Angel agreed slowly. "I don't know, maybe that's why I don't have those kind of moments: I _have _died, so I know what's coming. It's not the unknown for me."

It _sounded_ reasonable. That was what most oh-my-god-someday-I'm-going-to-die moments tended to be about: fear of the unknown. "So in what ways _do _you have your Getting Older moments?"

Angel shrugged. "The things you'd expect. Prices keep rising. I can't keep up with pop culture. Technology keeps changing."

"Mm." That wasn't exactly what she meant. Not external changes. "And you're a different person than you used to be." And then, knowing that Angel needed a bit of a lighter mood to ease him into the more personal subjects, she added, "No more visits to tavern wenches, for instance." She smiled and Angel raised an eyebrow.

"How would you know? Taverns don't have wenches anymore-maybe it's the taverns that have changed, not me." He smiled, too. He did not continue, and though Judith debated with herself briefly, she decided not to pursue it. She was grappling with her own internal shifts; she didn't have the energy to pry about Angel's.

Judith picked up her glass in both hands and rested her elbows on the table as she took a small sip. "How's Cordelia?"

"Good," Angel replied. "She was in town a few weeks ago."

Judith smiled again. "Good. I'm glad you get to see her regularly."

"Yeah," Angel agreed softly. His eyes had a far away glimmer, but he didn't elaborate.

Judith had been friends with Angel long enough that under other circumstances, she might have asked what the glimmer meant. But again: with her own vulnerability so close to the surface, she didn't feel like prying into his. She finished off the little bit that was left in her glass instead.

"Another one?" Angel asked as she set it aside.

"No, thank you." Two was plenty.

"I can walk you home if you want," Angel offered.

Judith nodded toward his glass of whiskey. "Finish that first. I'm not ready just yet."

Angel took another sip in a way that made Judith feel like she'd just told William to finish his milk. It didn't help her Getting Older Moment.

"Not regularly enough," Angel said so quietly, he may have been talking to his drink.

Judith tilted an ear toward him. "Sorry?"

"Cordy." Angel looked up at Judith briefly and then at his glass again, which was suspended in front of his face between two fingers. "It had been almost two years since the last time."

That surprised Judith. When William had first been on the path of Powers That Be Champion, Cordelia had stopped in at least once or twice a year to see how they were all adjusting. Gradually, her visits had decreased, and Judith had mostly stopped hearing about her arrivals to town after William had chosen not to a Champion for the Powers, but she'd assumed that was because William was the missing link, not that the visits were less frequent.

"That's a long time to wait."

Angel nodded.

"You..._do_...wait?" There was something both classically and tragically romantic about the idea, if it was true.

"Yeah," Angel said shortly, seeming unwilling to elaborate. He took a quick sip of his drink and then, after a moment of consideration, finished the last of it in one swallow. "Let's go," he said.

It was his turn to pay for the drinks, so Angel caught Marty's attention and gestured that he should add Judith's bill to his running tab as Judith reached for her black wool coat, beret, mittens, and scarf. Sometimes, Judith felt like she wore an entire extra wardrobe in the winter; especially around Angel because he had only worn his leather coat, which he brought regardless of season or weather.

It was bitter cold outside and the salt was battling to melt the ice that was re-freezing in the night air. Judith's breath looked like clouds of smoke in front of her.

The city was almost eerily quiet; no one seemed willing to brave the biting cold this late into the evening. The air between herself and Angel was cool and silent, also, and Judith wondered if she'd said something wrong. She stole a sideways glance at him.

Angel's shoulders were tense and hunched forward - more so than usual - but his expression was more pensive than angry. Judith's foot slid on a small patch of ice and she caught herself, and resolved immediately to pay more attention to where she put her feet.

They settled into a more cautious rhythm of walking, and finally, after they'd crossed Atalia Bridge, Angel broke the silence. "I'm not supposed to be waiting for her." The breath that he used to speak could also be seen, but in wisps instead of clouds. "It's just...turning out that way. I guess it's all been one long Getting Older Moment."

Judith tilted her head a bit, angling toward him just enough to show her interest, but still able to watch for ice. "Waiting?"

Angel shook his head, but then he hesitated, adjusting his shoulders with what seemed to be embarrassment. "Not..._waiting_…" He fidgeted again and cleared his throat, looking over at her as if trying to appraise her current receptibility to whatever it was he had to say in as short a glance as possible.

Angel gave a short, resigned sigh. "Sex," he admitted.

Judith's eyebrow arched slightly. "How?"

"It's…" he shrugged. "I see it differently now."

Judith stepped around a small patch of ice again before repeating, "How?"

"Wellllll…" Angel pushed his fists further into his pockets, even though they already seemed to be jammed in as hard as they could be. They stopped briefly at an intersection that warned them not to walk, but a quick check showed a completely desolate street, so they stepped out into the road anyway.

"_It's_ different," Angel continued. "You know?"

"Without any context for your sex life-tavern wenches aside-I'm afraid I don't." Over the years, Angel and Judith had discussed many personal things and experienced some personal things together… But their respective sex lives (or Judith's almost complete lack of one) rarely came up; not out of shyness or propriety, but simply because other topics had come up instead.

Angel sighed again, his shoulders sinking a bit. "It's like… You know when you're a kid and you want candy, you don't care what kind of candy it is so long as there's some kind of sugar in it, and you think, 'Man, when I grow up, I'm going to eat candy all day'-but then you _do_ grow up and you don't really want candy anymore unless it's the really good kind?"

Judith's eyebrows shot up. That might have been the longest sentence she'd ever heard Angel speak.

"I mean," Angel quickly clarified, "_I_ never actually went through that because we didn't have a lot of candy when I was a kid, but I hear it's a thing."

"It is," Judith assured him. "And I get the metaphor. I think." She adjusted her scarf a bit around her chin, suddenly glad that it was so cold and dark and empty as they walked-it made the conversation easier to have if they could speak to the void in front of them. "But just to be clear, in this case, the good kind of sex is…?"

"With someone I love," Angel replied. He gave a thoughtful little shrug. "Someone I _know_, actually… I'm working my way up."

Judith gave a little smile that she wasn't sure he could see. She remembered that transition, though for her it had happened sometime in her mid-20s. Her smile twisted into something a little teasing that seeped out into her tone. "You're 475 and you're _just_ figuring this out?"

"_No_," Angel said quickly. He dipped his head to the side. "Kind of. It's not like there have been that many, you know."

"I don't, actually. I don't think we've ever listed how many partners you've had, to say nothing of the ones you've known beforehand or loved. But I thought Buffy…?" Judith hesitated, suddenly unsure of the story, now. She knew Angel had been in love with her, and that sex with her had caused him to lose his soul, and she'd _thought_ it was quite a long time ago now… But Angel's account of the story had been perfunctory at best, and now she was questioning even those basic facts.

"Sure, of course," Angel said. "I loved her. But it was just the once, you know?"

Judith hadn't known, but she might have guessed on account of the curse (though she thought he had found a way to anchor it around the same time…?).

Angel continued, "But that was kind of it until- I mean there was Darla, obviously. Except not really because I couldn't...until I could… Because of the soul, you know?" he asked again.

Of course, Judith didn't know, again. She frowned, trying to follow. She knew that Darla was the mother of Angel's son, and of course was Angel's sire, with whom he'd lived for...was is 150 years? Thereabouts. The way Angel talked about her and given their history, Judith was sure he did love her, but that it was also more complicated than that.

"But then she died. And then Cordy. Now. Now Cordy." Apparently, Angel's run-on sentence earlier had drained him of the ability to put together complete sentences now. "And that's pretty much it. Love-wise."

Judith nodded slowly, her mind trying to fill in the gaps. "So you're saying that you're finding that it's worth the wait. That not just _any_ sex will do."

"Wellll," Angel said again. "Not as a _rule_, but...yeah."

Judith smiled as they stopped at the next intersection and waited for an empty tram to roll by. "I'm glad you've found that out."

It had been a long time since she'd had that herself. There had been a few people since the divorce, whom she'd gone on some dates with when William was at his father's. They were people she _might _have loved-but found that she didn't afterward. She had always hoped to find what she'd had with Sam again, but the hope dwindled with her age, just as the years seemed to pile on more baggage to the available men around her. Very few of them seemed to be gathering wisdom, and instead were gathering motorcycles and red cars…

"In my first year of college," Judith found herself saying as they stepped into the road, "there was a scandal when everyone found out that an older female professor was having an affair with a sophomore male; we were all appalled. But now… I think I understand why she would do it."

"Why?" Angel asked.

Judith drew in a deep, cold breath. "Because she wasn't supposed to be desirable anymore. In our culture, cougarism is a kink. Deviant. Fantastically scandalous and outside the norm. But...that's not true."

Angel frowned in confusion. "Which part?"

Judith thought for a moment. "The desire. Not just a desire for younger men, of course, but for...anyone." She chanced a full glance at him, away from the icy sidewalk. His expression reminded her of the city: cool and blank on the surface, but busy with thought in the warmer interior. She turned back to the sidewalk in time to skirt another patch of ice and she added, "It doesn't end with childbearing years, though society likes to pretend it does."

Angel shifted his shoulders again and stepped over some ice that was on his side. After a long moment-which soon found Judith fidgeting, too, adjusting and readjusting her sky blue scarf over her mouth-Angel asked, "Do-?" He hesitated. "Do you...often…?"

"No," she replied, saving Angel from finishing the sentence. She gave him a quick glance of solidarity. "It's better with someone I love. Or at least know."

The silence fell for good and neither of them spoke until they reached Judith's building several minutes later. Angel didn't always walk her home, but it had become something of a habit recently when there had been several times in a row that he'd needed to go meet someone at the nightclub Decade in Uptown anyway, and Judith's flat was on the way. It had made the partings seamless and natural when he had somewhere else to be.

Actually, she told herself, what made the partings seamless and natural was that they hadn't just been talking about something deeply personal. They slowed to a stop by her front steps, both staring at them as if someone had etched a script for what to say next.

_Well, hope you work out your issues. Goodnight!_

Since Judith was the better one with words, she turned to face him, trusting that something decent would come out. But Angel surprised her by speaking first.

"Do you-?"

Judith waited. Angel rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably.

"Do I what?"

Angel shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket like he was about to brush the whole thing off. "I was just going to ask if...you…"

Judith crossed her arms over herself tightly, partly from the cold and partly from the growing nervousness. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be nervous about, but Angel certainly was. There was a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. A vulnerability, and a fear around it. In the more than fifteen years that they'd been friends, Judith could have counted on one hand the number of times he'd truly opened himself up to her, but there had always been a sense of trust between them; that he knew she would handle his vulnerability carefully and safely.

That was gone, and it made her stomach drop.

"Angel…?"

Angel took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the skyscrapers behind her to look at her. "We could have that. Just once."

Judith frowned. "Have…?" It was dawning on her what he meant, but she didn't like to jump to conclusions.

"That thing," Angel said unhelpfully. "Where we know each other-like each other... Right?"

"Quite…" Judith said slowly.

"Quite." Angel agreed. "Sooo…"

"Angel," Judith interrupted. "Are you suggesting that we…" Ah. Now she knew why it was so hard to say.

There was a very long, pregnant moment until Angel finally said, "Yeah."

"Oh," Judith found herself saying. Her mind went blank and she had no idea what else to say. She couldn't feel her body, and she was pretty sure it wasn't because of the cold. She felt like her mind temporarily left to go analyze the situation and had forgotten to take her consciousness with it.

She was left with feelings, which were a historically dangerous thing for her to be left with. She bit her lip and tried to rationalize. She didn't feel romantically toward Angel, and she was pretty certain that he didn't feel that way about her, either. Not that romance was necessary, of course. It was called _making love_, but it wasn't specific about which kind. She felt a great deal of like for him-it was a respect and friendship sort of love...

_Just once_, he'd said. Because it was better with someone you knew.

"I mean, if you don't want to…" Angel said quickly, probably because she'd let too much time pass. He started to back away.

"No," Judith said just as quickly. "That's not- I'm just surprised." She forced herself to meet his eye. "Just once?"

"Just once," Angel nodded.

Judith's mind began to return, reconnecting to her body in distinct clicks. She shivered involuntarily when she realized how cold she was. Angel must have noticed because he opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.

"Yes."

Angel looked nearly as surprised as she felt. "Yes?" he repeated.

Judith nodded. "Yes. But if we don't get inside soon, I might just freeze to death."

"Oh, right," Angel agreed, like he'd forgotten it was winter.

She led the way up the stone steps and once inside, they took the stairs instead of the lift. It seemed to Judith to be the best way to start to thaw, and it would avoid standing around and waiting for the lift. If this was happening, Judith didn't want any extra room for an awkward beforehand. There was little to be done if the during and after were unbearably awkward, but with the tool of distraction, the before was in their control.

At least in theory.

When they shut Judith's front door, there was a pause where she wondered what the next step was, and the expression on Angel's face mirrored something similar. All the rules seemed to be different. Did the mood need to be set? Should they settle in slowly, get comfortable, have a glass of wine and lower the lights (which had turned on automatically to full intimidating brightness when they'd walked in)…? Or just go ahead and start? And if they were going to just start, should the winter outer layers come off before starting, or was it actually good to have a few extra things for the other person to take off so they could get used to the idea that the rest would soon follow? That boundaries were about to be crossed?

Judith's heart began to pound a little harder and her mind, fully returned, demanded to know what the hell she'd been thinking when she'd said _Yes_.

And then, gently yet still before she had time to react, Angel turned her toward him and kissed her. His lips were cold, and so were his fingers at the base of her skull just above her scarf and below her hat. His breath smelled like scotch whiskey. Something inside Judith swooped upward and her heart began to pound a little harder, but in a slightly less fearful way, and she put a mittened hand on the front of his shoulder.

_It's only the unknown_, she reminded herself. _And isn't the point of this that it isn't __actually_ _unknown?_

They knew each other. That was the opposite of _unknown_. She knew that he liked scotch, for instance, and it wouldn't have surprised her that he tasted like it even if she hadn't known that he'd just been drinking it. She knew his hands and the way he touched the things he held in them, so the way his fingers moved against the back of her neck felt oddly familiar-not because they had ever been there before, but because she could have guessed that's what they would have felt like.

And yet… At the same time, his lips on hers suddenly opened up an entirely new realm of unknown that she had utterly failed to take into consideration.

The king of this unknown realm being that he was a vampire. A creature from Hell. Not even human.

_Oh god._

They broke apart and he backed away a bit, giving her room to catch her breath. His fingers slid out from behind her head. Judith took a second to let go of the _He's a Vampire_ realization. Judith usually liked to deal with things as they came up, but this was one time that she didn't actually think it would help. Angel had gotten them over the first hurdle; she wasn't going to be the one to backslide.

Judith gave a short laugh, pushing those last thoughts out of the way, and said, "Thank you for that."

Angel smiled almost apologetically and rubbed at the back of his own head. "It was starting to get awkward."

"Yes, it was."

"I might have just made that worse."

Judith smiled. A vampire biologically, but human emotionally. He was just as unsure as she was. Somehow, that made it better; at least she wasn't alone in this. "You didn't," she assured him.

He gave her a little nod and both of them hesitated again. Then Angel reached out and carefully took the hat off her head. He hung it on one of the coat tree branches. Then he ran his fingers along her scalp, smoothing her hair in a way that made Judith's entire head tingle, down to the breath filling her lungs with a pleasant prickling. Suddenly warming up, she loosened her scarf with clumsy mittened hands and pulled it off, hanging it by the hat.

Angel took her hands in his as she raised them to take the mittens off and he paused, holding them between his own. "My hands are going to be too cold for this," he said with a grimace.

"So are mine," Judith replied, grimacing a little herself. It had been so cold out, she'd almost felt like she hadn't been wearing gloves. "I could fill some mugs with hot water," she offered.

Angel paused, seemingly thinking about it. It was an unromantic notion, Judith had to admit.

"Hold on," Angel said, and took off her mittens, balancing them on top of the scarf and hat. He took both her hands in his own again and Judith had to suppress a reaction. They were _freezing_. "Sorry," Angel said, but then adjusted his stance and posture, closed his eyes, and began breathing deeply.

In just a few seconds, his hands began to tingle with warmth. It was an odd feeling: she could still feel the cold underneath, even as his skin began to approach hot. No, it wasn't even his skin; it was the energy around his skin, and she could feel it flowing around her hands, too. After a moment, though, the heat started to penetrate more deeply. The skin of both their hands felt warm, and then the blood underneath, and finally, Judith's hands felt warmed down to her bones.

Angel let go and opened his eyes.

Judith looked up at him. "Magic?" she asked.

Angel shrugged with something like an apology. "Tai chi."

"Oh," Judith looked at her hands again. She hadn't realized tai chi could do that. It _was _better than mugs of hot water, though. She smiled at him, and then turned away to take off her shoes. Angel followed suit, and soon the shoes sat dripping melting ice into the tray she kept by the door. Now there was only one barrier left: their coats.

Judith hesitated only briefly before beginning to work at the large buttons on her coat, feeling a little less apprehensive now that the first few steps had gone well. Soon, their coats were hanging on neighboring rungs on the coat tree, and they looked at each other again.

After more than fifteen years of friendship, Angel was as familiar to her as her home. If she never saw him again after this moment, in another fifteen years she would still be able to hear the timbre and cadence of his voice, read the subtler expressions of his face, see his hunched silhouette and glint of his eyes in a dark Dragon's Crown booth. But now, in a new context, he looked different. Like a mirror image; especially strange with someone who literally didn't even have a mirror image. She tried to wrap-

"Don't think too hard about it," Angel interrupted her thoughts.

Judith stared at him in surprise, and then let out a laugh. She nodded. "Apt call."

Angel's mouth twitched in a smile and then he stepped forward again, sliding his fingers behind her head, and kissed her, more gently this time.

Judith took Angel's advice and let the thoughts go as they came, focusing instead on the sensations: the smooth cotton of his shirt under her fingers as she ran them up to his shoulders, his soft yet slightly dry lips on hers (warmer, now), his other hand on her lower back…

Judith deepened the kiss, allowing their lips to fit together in a way the let taste slip into the picture. The scotch was still predominant and Judith enjoyed it. Angel pulled her closer so their bodies were flush against each other and Judith had to rearrange her arms to fit around him instead of between them.

They broke apart just long enough for Judith to catch another breath before Angel closed in again, a little harder now that the gates were open. She pressed the fingers of one hand against the back of his head, encouraging the intensity, to which he responded by sliding the hand at her back under the hem of her shirt.

With another upward swoop of her stomach, Judith suddenly realized why she had said yes: because he had asked. He had asked and risked rejection because he wanted it enough-because he'd wanted _her_ enough, for whatever reason. The reason wasn't romantic attraction, Judith was sure, but it was definitely some sort of desire for her, because Judith hadn't felt it since… Well, the last time she'd felt it was the last time she thought that she and her ex-husband still had a chance.

And if the way Angel was kissing her-his fingers now tangled in her hair and her bottom lip starting to tingle-didn't indicate his desire for her, then he was just intimidatingly good at kissing.

Which was, Judith realized as they started slowly backing further into her flat, entirely possible with the amount of experience he'd had.

She quickly decided that that was one of those thoughts she should let go of.

She broke their contact again to breathe, and Angel moved along her jawline toward her earlobe, brushing her hair out of his way as he went. With her eyes open again, she realized how bright the room was, and she used voice command to turn out the lights, trusting Angel to be able to see where they were going as they continued farther into the flat.

It turned out to be misplaced trust.

With Angel too busy at her ear to watch where they were going, she backed painfully into an end table by the entrance to the hall, knocking over a few candlesticks that clattered loudly to the floor as they both yelled in shock and shattered the moment with the noise.

Stumbling to regain their balance still tangled up in each other, Judith let out a laugh, and Angel echoed it as he groped for the wall for support.

"I'm sorry!" Judith said, still laughing. "I thought turning out the lights would make it better."

"Yeah, well," Angel chuckled, "I thought using my brilliant powers of intuition to navigate would make it sexier."

"It _would _have..." Judith allowed.

"Oh well," Angel shrugged. His smile slid away. "You okay?"

Judith nodded, although her sacral area still throbbed where it had hit the edge of the table. "Fine." She would be, anyway.

Angel nodded, too. They paused, letting the moment settle again. When Angel began to lean in, Judith quickly interrupted,

"Maybe we should just...go ahead in there."

"Oh," Angel said, straightening up again. "Yeah. Good idea."

He backed up and tripped over one of the fallen candleholders. He swore, his hand flying out to catch himself against the opposite wall. Judith tried to suppress the laughter again and Angel pointed a finger at her as she passed him, leading the way toward her bedroom. "You know, it's a lot harder to make the sweeping-things-off-the-table thing work than it looks like in the movies."

"Especially when it's not intentional," Judith agreed. She turned in the doorway to her bedroom to smile at him.

It helped, actually. The sharp dose of reality helped sew the Angel she knew together with the Angel she was discovering. The vulnerability helped, too, even more so than if he'd manage to suavely smooth the whole thing over. Vulnerability was one of the sexiest things Judith could think of; especially in someone who worked so hard not to show it.

Judith held out her hand. Angel took it, and Judith pulled him closer, for the first time thoroughly sure that she wanted this. She kissed him this time, and she could feel him relax against her as the moment returned. His tenderness, the strength in his grace, and just a hint of urgency enhanced her own growing sense of need. Sure that nothing was in their way this time, they backed slowly toward the bed and stopped just as they reached the edge.

_The edge_ was exactly what it felt like.

She teetered on the border of decision, where all the next steps-from touch to clothes to position-crossed into lands that were not only uncharted with each other, they were practically in different dimensions.

Angel let go of her waist to begin undoing the lower buttons of his own shirt, and Judith was grateful to him for taking that first next step entirely at his own expense. _Not_-Judith thought as she helped with the top buttons and then pushed the shirt off his shoulders-_that it's that much of a risk, with a chest like his…_ Toned, firm, smooth except for a fine line of dark hair running down his center and wisping like clouds across the top. He had a brand just above his heart: something that looked kind of like a sun.

They took off Judith's shirt next, and her skin tightened in the cool air and with the sense of exposure. Judith was used to exposing her inner self to Angel: between his inclination to listen instead of talk and his unwillingness to judge past actions and inner natures because of his own, she had often found herself admitting things that she hadn't admitted to anyone else. He was safe. Nonjudgmental. Quiet.

He was like her dark bedroom now, where they were exploring each other's bare skin like secrets whispered under a blanket. He was isolated, shielding, and she felt hidden with him from the outside city that knew nothing about Angel, nothing about her, and nothing about their relationship. Not even her closest friends knew about Angel, and that meant that right now, she could be anyone she wanted. For the last fifteen years, he had been the dark room she could whisper her secrets into.

The metaphor did not translate to clothing, but Judith found that it was more exciting because of it. Judith's greatest weakness was her passion, and that was why she kept it under such strict control. She could drown easily in the depths of her emotion, and the way she kept herself afloat was by building boats of rules and values and beliefs: mental structures that were strong enough to keep her safe, but flexible enough to survive the occasional storm.

The sensation of her bare stomach against Angel's made it feel like it was raining, and she wanted more. Heat flashed over her chest and wrapped warm tendrils sensuously around her neck.

She reached down and worked at undoing the front of his trousers. She could feel him smile against her neck.

"You're a switch, aren't you?"

Already, he was putting things together about her. One little moment of initiative wasn't enough for anyone to tell one way or the other. He was combing through what he knew, the things she'd confided, the way she interacted with the world, and piecing together a picture of her more private aspects. Her heart jolted, like a physical connection of electricity to match the emotional connection of intimacy.

"So are you," she replied, hooking her thumb in the loosened waistband. Angel confided a lot less to her, verbally, but it was an obvious conclusion to make. She pushed at his trousers at the same time as he pushed her onto the bed and they slid smoothly over the curve of his hips.

"Apt call," he echoed, and stopped whatever lovely thing he'd been doing to her neck to pull his trousers the rest of the way off. Judith didn't look out of habit, but she wouldn't have had much chance, anyway. She arched into him as he returned and slid a hand under her back and along her spine to the hook of her bra.

"Ouch," she said as the corner of his fingernail nicked her back.

"Sorry," he said softly. "At least these are easier to manage than corsets…"

She laughed lightly. "You know, I've always wanted to try one on."

Angel raised an eyebrow; it was so much more alluring now than it ever had been before. "Is that so?" He leaned in and kissed her jawbone near her ear and then whispered, "I'll get one for you."

Judith smiled at the thought, though she knew he never would. This was just one night, after all.

Perhaps it was because it was just one night that there seemed to be an unspoken agreement to make it last as long as they could. There was urgency to continue, but not to finish, a need to explore, but not to take. Not immediately, anyway. They switched a few times, listened to the sounds the other made, watched expressions, learned new things about the other's sensitivities.

He brought her to climax twice: once gently, with his hands and then later...well...not so gently. They lay tangled in each other and the sheets for a long while afterward, catching their breath (which Judith spent some time wondering about, since Angel didn't need to breathe, but she eventually decided that maybe it was necessary for circulation and maybe, sometime, she would ask).

Judith's muscles were already a bit sore and her right arm was pinned under Angel at a slightly uncomfortable angle and just starting to feel the first sharp pricks of sleep. But were it not for the slight imperfections, she could not have realized just how satisfied and comfortable she otherwise felt, and for such a realization she would not have changed a thing.

Eventually, Angel spoke, his voice slightly muffled in the crook of her neck. "You smell like…snow…mangoes…and a little like turmeric."

Judith smiled. "Do I? I've always wondered."

"Those are the closest words I can come up with." He took a deep breath. "And now you smell a little like me, too."

"What do you smell like?"

Angel took a moment to answer. "Smoke," he finally said.

"What kind of smoke?"

"No kind. Just…murky, dark, dangerous."

An unexpected thrill jolted in Judith's stomach, but she tried to let it go; that was _not_ a healthy attraction.

Judith tilted her head toward his so that she could smell the skin of his sweaty brow. "And you also smell like earth," she said, leaning back. "But not surface earth: bedrock and earth beneath the topsoil."

"Six feet under?" Angel asked, and she could feel him give a slight grin.

"Something like that. See? Humans can do it, too."

"I'm impressed," Angel said.

"So will I smell like you forever now?" she asked. Once, a long time ago near the beginning of their friendship, Angel had explained the concept of virginity as vampires could sense it. He'd said that after a union, people leave traces of themselves in others; that that was what was meant by "purity."

"Just a little, if someone took the time to notice."

Someone, she assumed, meaning another vampire.

"Hm," Judith sighed.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No. Just interesting."

They were quiet for a few more moments. After a while, Judith said, "Thank you. I didn't know how much I needed that."

Angel tilted up to look at her. Their faces were so close. Judith studied his eyes in the way that she always wanted to, but never felt entirely comfortable. Staring through the windows to the soul is, after all, a supreme act of trust. Though they often made eye contact when talking, actually studying a person's eyes was quite different. He let her look without blinking.

"Me too," he finally said. Then suddenly, he sat up, freeing her arm, and she thought that he was going to leave. But instead, he began untangling the winter blankets from around their legs until he could pull it over both of them. He draped his arm across her abdomen as he lay back down and settled his face in the crook of her neck again. They didn't say anything after that, and eventually, they fell asleep.

When she woke in the morning, Angel was gone, though he'd left a note on her nightstand. Where the date should have gone, he had written "Sunrise," and the body of the note simply said,

_Thank you._

* * *

**A/N: **A little bit of commentary, since this story kind of warrants it.

Before I first wrote this story back in 2010ish, I never envisioned Angel and Judith getting together in any capacity, and this story was an AU experiment to stretch my own writing skills (i.e. I wanted to try my hand at writing sex scenes). There were reasons I chose Judith over anyone else to experiment with, and part of the exercise was seeing how I might bring them together for a night without any previous attraction, and then just as easily let them go on their way.

Except I kept writing after their first encounter. Although this story has gone through several alterations of varying sorts, the flow is true to the original. I had no particular plot in mind, I just knew that I was curious about their relationship after this first night. What comes in the following chapters is the organic result of that exploration, and I liked it so much I made it canon.

This story is told completely from Judith's POV as she's mid-50's and single and thinking about the aging process, and I absolutely adored writing this story from that angle. As she says in the Dragon's Crown, society tends to ignore the sexuality of older women, and I loved the opportunity Judith gave me to embrace it. I hope you enjoy it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Afterglow, Nosy Friends, and Corsets**

Judith did not see Angel for several days afterward, but that was not unusual. Their paths tended to cross occasionally and often organically, like vines winding around the same tree trunk, and only after it had been a few weeks would one think to call the other for a social occasion. Judith quickly decided the next morning as she was showering that she should not expect things to be different now. Things were, of course, in the immediate sense, but so long as they both continued as if they weren't different, normalcy would eventually return. As it should.

It turned out to be a good decision for her, not because it was easy, but because it gave her a guiding arm when she thought she was thinking too much about that night. Which was more often than she liked to admit.

It wasn't that she had regrets-quite the opposite, in fact-it was just that she had learned new things (and him _and_ about herself) and wasn't quite sure where to file them. They had said _just the once_, and that released them of the obligation for any follow-up, but it also released her from addressing all those hesitations that had come up at the time: the ones that Angel had advised her to not think too hard about. It wouldn't happen again, and so she didn't need to endlessly ruminate about how she felt about any of it, though it was practically against her soul's nature not to.

And then… There was the fact that Judith was a woman, and being a woman, had several female friends, and these female friends-since many close female friends fancy themselves each others' private therapists-were not going to let Judith just not think about it.

It wasn't like Judith told them what had happened on purpose-close friends just have a sense for these things.

It was Marietta Goldberg's turn to host card-playing, and she lived just two floors above Angel's flat, which did not help Judith's concentration in either the game or evading their constant questions once they noticed "The Glow" (though it had been several days by that point, and Judith thought that it wouldn't have been noticeable anymore). Judith loved her friends, of course, but she often found their silliness around these things rather trying—especially at an age when people were _supposed_ to be mature and…dare she think it? Edging on stuffy.

"Well _I_ think it's wonderful if Judy found herself a man," Eliza Dempsey was saying to her right. Judith frowned. Had she confirmed that without realizing it? No, she couldn't have. It wasn't even true. "Two clubs. I mean, how long has it been since you'd last had sex, Judy? Too long, I'm sure. That's not healthy for a woman!"

Judith flushed with embarrassment while the other women nodded knowingly and giggled. "Pass," Judith said.

"Mm," Claire Renato agreed sagely as she arranged her cards from Judith's left. "And I always say there's nothing like a good shag after tragedy."

Eliza snorted lightly. "You always say there's nothing like a good shag, period."

Claire nodded in agreement.

"So tell us about him, dear," Eliza said evenly as she turned back to Judith.

"I never said there was a him," Judith replied, keeping her eyes fixed on her own cards. She reflected a moment on how, if they'd only acted mature, she probably would have told them whatever they wanted to know, the vampire part aside. It was the fact that she felt like she was at a teenage slumber party admitting to the juiciest Truth or Dare gossip that made her so feel like hiding.

There was a collective gasp around the table.

"It's a _her?_" Marietta squealed opposite Judith, her dark Grecian eyes wide with the delight of her teasing.

Judith cocked an eyebrow toward Marietta. They had all known each other since their children had started primary school together; Marietta knew that Judith was primarily attracted to men, so Judith assumed that she was being swept along in the dramatic excitement of something new to talk about.

"No," Judith replied shortly. "There is no one new in my life, alright? Man, woman…or otherwise. I don't know where you ladies come up with such notions. It's your bid, Claire."

"And _I_ don't know why you try to hide it," Claire replied, flicking a strand of newly-dyed red hair out of her eyes. Claire was a natural redhead, but for reasons that baffled Judith, was constantly switching shades of red-tonight it was a deep ruby. Between her red hair and emerald eyes, Claire perpetually looked like she'd come straight out of an Irish fairytale. "Judith, we _know_ you. You've got _The Glow_. Two no trump."

"I do not have The Glow," Judith grumbled. What a ridiculous term. Like it had been magic or ethereal or something. Gold pixie dust, luminous rainbows, and effervescent rose petals. Fireworks and cosmic explosions of ecstasy.

Her candleholder was broken.

Not that it hadn't been wonderful, but she'd liked that candleholder.

"Yes, you do," Claire, Eliza, and Marietta all said at once.

Judith gave a sharp sigh of frustration. "Doesn't that wear off?" she asked.

"Well, now that depends," Claire said in a voice that meant that she was preparing to give a full explanation of The Glow's lifespan in direct correlation with just how good the sex was and if it had been followed with other sex and if that sex had been more good sex or merely satisfactory sex or outright bad sex- Claire read so many advice columns (sex, love, and otherwise) that she could have been awarded an honorary research degree in life coaching psychology.

Judith held up a hand to stave off the explanation. "That was rhetorical, dear."

"Mari passes again," Eliza said for Marietta, and then clicked her tongue once before saying, "three clubs." (Claire groaned at the back of her throat.) "So, Judy?" Eliza asked, dipping her hand into the pretzel bowl.

Judith sighed and relented. "It's nothing exciting, ladies. It was just one time, and that's that. Pass." It was convention to say _pass_ at this point, but Judith liked to adhere to rules when she could.

Claire tapped her cards on the table absently as she considered Judith. "I thought you gave up one-night stands? After...whatshisname. Mark."

Mark hadn't exactly been a one-night stand, but the mistake was easy enough to make. He had simply been a misjudge of character: someone she thought could work out in a longer term than it did.

"Well," Judith half shrugged, deciding to forgo the correction if it meant moving onto a different topic sooner, "it was a good opportunity. And he wasn't a stranger: I knew him. Know him."

"You're going to see him again?" Claire asked.

"In the literal sense, yes."

"How do you feel about that?"

Judith shrugged. "Fine. He's a long-time family friend."

As one, three sets of cards folded on the table, and as one, all three of Judith's friends leaned forward.

Eliza was the first to speak, "Friends with Benefits."

"No," Judith insisted, trying to avoid the feeling that she was suddenly before a tribunal.

"Unveiled romantic attraction," Marietta tried.

"Certainly not."

"You both got really drunk and horny?" Claire suggested with a wicked grin.

"Ha," Judith replied dryly.

"Then give us _something_," Claire pushed. "What _happened?_"

Glancing around the table, Judith sighed and relented again. Defendants had no weapon against their tribunal except a well-crafted story, and though Judith was not much of a storyteller, this time her grounds for acquittal was any story at all.

"We were talking-yes, Claire, having a drink, but not drunk-we both had emotional needs, and we realized that we could fulfill those needs. The agreement was one night, one night it was, and that's the end of it. I promise, there is _really_ nothing more to say."

The table was silent a moment before Marietta leaned even farther forward and placed a gentle, olive-toned hand on Judith's forearm. "What emotional needs, dear?"

_That_, she could talk about. Judith glanced between Eliza and Claire. "You two settle on a bid, and then I'll tell you."

* * *

They played several rounds, which Claire and Eliza mostly won, and they griped about societal views of aging women. They had been having such a good time commiserating, in fact, that when they were done with bridge, they all decided that it would be a lovely idea to go out for drinking chocolate at a nearby French chocolatier and continue the commiseration.

"You always take the stairs, Judy," Eliza huffed through her scarf as they descended the stairs of the building. "But it gets so hot by the time we get to the bottom."

"Good," Judith said with a smile. "The cold air will feel lovely, then."

Claire gasped suddenly. "Judith, he's not _Scott Williams_, is he?"

It took Judith brief moment to realize what she was talking about, and then her jaw dropped in horror. "Heavens, no!" Judith turned to give Claire a _Who do you think I am? _look.

"Scott Williams," Marietta huffed, "is hardly a friend to anyone, let alone anything more."

Eliza craned her neck back to look at Marietta from the front of the group. "Still bitter about the school board incident?"

"_Shh!_" Claire interjected behind everyone. "Don't encourage her!"

"That teacher had _no _accountability," Marietta began sharply, and there was an audible sigh from everyone else. Judith knew Marietta's side of the story so well, she could have argued it herself (and probably better, if she'd had a mind. Fortunately, William had not been in the class in question, so she had missed being part of the drama, except vicariously).

They were saved the old familiar diatribe when Judith rounded the last landing of the stairs and ran straight into Angel. There were shouts of surprise from everyone and Judith quickly apologized. Then the overwhelming rotten egg smell hit her and she wrinkled her nose.

"Why do you smell like sulfur?" she asked before thinking about it.

"Oh, sorry," Angel said, and she noticed he was trying to hide something behind his back. "I was...long story." He glanced uncertainly at Judith's friends, and Judith suddenly realized that they were there, with her-she'd kept her two worlds so separate that (literally) running into one had (figuratively) knocked the other clean out of her perception.

"Oh- Of course," Judith said quickly, trying to help brush by it in the turbulence of the two collided worlds. She wasn't even supposed to know Angel. _Back out, back out…_ "I shouldn't have pried. Have a nice evening, Angel." She smiled and nodded courteously, and he also smiled and nodded courteously, and then Judith steered her friends on their way back down the stairs so that they wouldn't notice whatever Angel was hiding behind his back (that had dripped something yellow-greenish on the stairs on his way up).

Once at the bottom, Marietta turned to Judith. "You know him?" she asked.

Judith cursed inwardly, her hopes utterly dashed that Marietta and Angel had never noticed in the past few decades that they lived in the same building (well, Angel probably _still_ hadn't noticed). She managed to keep a calm exterior, though, and said, "He used to tutor William."

"Is he from the university?" Claire asked, glancing appreciatively back up the stairs.

"You know," Marietta said, "I was always a bit unnerved by him. He's just so cold whenever we'd pass each other, and he doesn't seem to age…"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Marietta," Judith said quickly. "Everybody ages."

She and Claire pushed the doors open and a refreshing blast of cold air hit them.

"Is it Ross Brook?" Eliza asked.

"He's _married!_" Judith cried, though secretly glad for the distraction.

"Well, you're not giving us much to go on, dear. If you won't give us juicy gossip, we'll make it up ourselves…"

* * *

When they left the chocolaterie just over an hour later, Claire and Eliza went one way and Judith and Marietta went the other. For the next block, they talked about what a lovely evening it had been, and perhaps next time the card-playing-stars would be better aligned in their favor, and other such wrapping-up-the-evening topics. They paused at a crosswalk and said goodnight to each other with a quick kiss on the cheek. Marietta crossed the street while Judith rounded the corner and then stopped with a startled gasp.

Angel was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, waiting.

"Were you stalking me?" Judith asked in tone that was part-teasing, part-accusing.

Angel thought for a minute. "I was lurking," he finally said. "Completely different."

"Perhaps, but no less creepy."

"I'm a vampire," Angel shrugged. "Can't really help it."

She gave a small smile and approached slowly. He didn't smell like sulfur anymore. "Very well, then, why were you 'lurking'?"

"I was on my way back from getting a few books…" they both glanced at the bag in Angel's hand. "I saw you with your friends, and I thought…" He looked at her and with a shrug, just said it: "Want to come back with me?"

The corner of Judith's mouth turned up even as her stomach dropped. _Just the once_, her mind reminded her, but again, she found herself saying, "Yes." And they walked together back to Angel's flat, barely a block behind an oblivious Marietta.

* * *

His message was frustratingly vague: "I have something for you."

Very intriguing, of course; it made Judith suddenly want her shift at the hospital to end early so she could see what Angel might have for her. But as time passed and her curiosity built, so did her frustration. If he had just told her what it was, she could properly let it go until her shift was over and give the patients she sat with her undivided and compassionate attention.

It didn't help her mood that there happened to be a family in the waiting room who had just learned that the father had not made it through his heart surgery, and Judith had felt compelled to stay late and comfort them, having been through a similar experience herself. She also felt compelled to call her mother en route to Angel's, just to check in and see how she was doing since the funeral for Judith's brother, which wasn't a pleasant experience, either, for obvious reasons. She therefore arrived at Angel's apartment building after a late dinner in less than a good mood, try though she did to shake it off.

"Judy?"

Judith cursed to herself and stopped at the foot of the stairs in the foyer of Angel's building. _Of course_ she would run into Marietta today, of all days. She put on a surprised smile and whirled around to face the lifts, where Marietta had just stepped out.

"Judy, what on earth are you doing here?" Marietta click-clacked over to Judith and kissed her cheek, which Judith returned rather clumsily through Marietta's dark, salon-styled curls.

"I came to see you, of course," Judith said, preemptively and frantically thinking up an answer to Marietta's next question:

"Why?"

"Well," Judith said, smile still plastered on her face, "I was just in the area and I thought I would come and see you to…pick up that cheesecake recipe. You know, in person, instead having you message it to me." Judith applauded herself. That sounded half reasonable.

Marietta's eyes lit up. "Oh, I forgot to send that to you, didn't I? I'm on my way out at the moment…"

"Oh, well don't worry about it, then. I'll get it some other time."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Don't let me hold you up…"

"Alright then. But I _will_ send it to you later. Text to remind me."

"Of course."

Marietta turned away, but then paused and looked back. "Aren't you coming?"

"Hm?"

"Well you're not going to sit here in the foyer, are you?"

"Oh. Right, I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere." Judith fell into step with Marietta and they made for the door.

"And where would that be?"

There was a hint of teasing in her tone, so Judith immediately said, "William."

Marietta gave a slightly disappointed sigh, and her breath came out in a cloud of vapor in the cold night air as they stepped out through the door. "Of course… How is he doing?"

"Oh, just fine. You know, Marietta, I'm going to stop at the bakery before going home. I'll see you later?"

"Yes, yes, goodbye, dear," Marietta said, and they kissed cheeks again.

They parted ways, and as soon as Marietta rounded the corner, Judith doubled back to the building with a relieved sigh.

She had almost forgotten her reason for being there in the first place on top of everything else that had happened that day, but when Angel opened the door he gave her such a sly smirk that everything came rushing back. She crossed her arms.

"_That_ was a vague message."

Angel stepped back to let her in. "It was supposed to be."

"Well I didn't appreciate it!"

Angel raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"I've been wondering what it was _all day!_"

"I sent it late this afternoon," Angel said, trying to hide his smile. He held out a hand to take her coat. "I thought you didn't like hyperbole, Judith—they're not specific."

"Well…" Judith tried to calm herself. "Fine. You're right, I like specificity, and your message was _not_ specific."

His expression remained annoyingly amused. "So you want to know what it is?"

"I—" What Judith _really_ wanted was to win the argument and make her point clear, but… She gave a sharp sigh. "Yes, I want to know. What is it?"

Angel smiled. "In here." He led the way toward his bedroom, and Judith's stomach tightened. They had yet to acknowledge how their _Just Once_ had somehow become _Twice_ (which was now almost a week ago), and the bedroom reeked of suggestion as to what a "surprise" for her might be. Nevertheless, she followed him in.

Angel opened his closet door and pulled out a flat box from the top shelf. He turned around, gave her an unreadable look, and set it down on the bed. He took a step back. Trying not to show how bursting with curiosity she was, though it was really too late, she slowly walked over to the box and took the lid in her hands. She glanced once up at Angel, and then lifted the lid.

Her mouth fell open, and then she gave a slightly embarrassed chuckle as she pulled a heavy, authentic overbust corset out of the box and held it up.

"I don't believe you…" she said quietly.

"I said I'd find you one," Angel replied.

"Yes, but that was…" Right in the middle of that thing they weren't talking about. She looked up. "Thank you."

Angel shrugged. "It wasn't hard to find. Any authentic costumer will make them. This one used techniques and materials of the era, though."

"Which era is that?"

"Victorian. I thought it would suit you best." He paused. "You want to try it on?"

"Now?"

Angel grinned. "Unless you want to do it yourself later…which I would _love_ to see you try."

Judith straightened up in an attempt to appear somewhat insulted, but she smiled in spite of herself. "Alright then…"

Angel took the corset from her and nodded to the box. "Put that on first. It'll make it more comfortable."

Judith looked back into the box and noticed a chemise folded neatly. She picked it up. It was cotton. Judith often wore cotton dresses in the summer, but in the winter it was far more practical to wear clothing made out of the warm, light synthetic material that her current outfit was made of.

At that moment, someone knocked on Angel's front door. He sighed and promised to be right back. Secretly, Judith was glad. They'd slept together twice, but undressing in front of him now would have seemed somehow immodest. She didn't know if it was habit or something else, and though she realized it was somewhat irrational, she took the opportunity to quickly change anyway before he came back.

She needn't have hurried, for he was gone for several minutes.

"Sorry," he said when he finally returned. "I wouldn't have answered, except that I was expecting him."

"It's quite alright," Judith smiled. "I understand. Who was it, if I may…?"

"Kressler demon named Roy. He has a bad infestation he wanted help getting rid of magically."

"What kind of infestation?"

"Fruit flies."

"Fruit flies?" Judith snorted. "Did you tell him to throw away his rotten fruit?"

"No, Kresslers _eat_ rotten fruit. Besides, Kresslers have an aversion to…normal things. They interpret all of their problems as magical and therefore they must have magical solutions."

Judith frowned. "That seems self-deceptive."

Angel shrugged. "It's no different from humans having an aversion to magic. Besides, they bring in a lot of my income, so I'm not complaining."

"What did you sell him?"

Angel hesitated, not meeting her eye. "A potion that kills the flies on contact."

Judith crossed her arms. "What was _in_ this potion?"

Angel glanced awkwardly around the room. "Cheap-brand insecticide."

Judith couldn't help the short laugh that escaped as a snort. She covered her mouth. What had gotten into her? Dishonesty wasn't funny.

"Alright, turn around," Angel said with a small smile, picking up the corset again. She did and lifted her arms as he wrapped it around her. "Hold it in place," he said. "And tell me if it's too tight. Darla never needed to breathe…"

"Did you do her stays often?" Judith asked as he set to work.

"Often enough. Though honestly, I _un_did them more…" He cleared his throat and Judith flushed slightly at the thought. He continued, "She could do it herself, but it's easier for someone else to do it."

"It is possible, then?"

"Sure. I'll show you later."

They were quiet for several minutes. Judith tried desperately to think of all the historically related questions she'd normally want to ask, but all she could think about was the incredible intimacy of the moment. It was not just a costume to either of them: she may have been fully covered, but she was not fully clothed, and they both knew it.

Judith wondered with a swoop of nervousness and excitement if Angel had intended to create this kind of moment with her, or if he had simply meant it as a promise fulfilled from one friend to another. She realized with a sudden skip of her heart that she wasn't sure which one she wanted it to be. Judith tried to take an extra deep breath and found she couldn't.

"Too much?" Angel asked.

"Just a bit."

He loosened them slightly. "How's that?"

"Better. That's good."

"Okay, um…you need to adjust your…yourself. So it feels comfortable."

"Right…" Judith swallowed and reached down her front to adjust herself until it felt right. Angel gave the stays one last pull, tied the laces, and then said, "I…"

He paused, and Judith turned to look at him. He was glancing around the room like he'd just realized something completely new. "...Don't have a mirror."

Judith laughed.

Angel rubbed at the back of his head, mildly embarrassed and trying to come up with an alternative. His eyes fell on Judith and locked for a moment, tracking once up and down. Judith shifted her weight, and Angel forced his eyes away. "I could take a picture," he offered. "If you want to see yourself."

"Erm," Judith took in a shallow breath, glancing down at herself. It seemed silly not to, objectively. It also seemed a little rude not to, objectively. And she _did_ want to see what she looked like. Judith told herself to get over whatever insecurities were getting in her way and said, "Yes, that'd be nice. I think my Palm is in my coat pocket."

Angel nodded and went to fetch it, returning a moment later.

The picture felt intensely awkward to take, and not only because Angel had trouble figuring out where the shutter button was on the newer model (actually, it was in the same place as his older model, but the icon had changed). Judith felt exposed, on display, and immortalized.

And it was just ironic that she thought she might have been more comfortable in that situation if they hadn't already slept together. It would have provided a measure of safety in knowing exactly where they stood and what the end goal of that corset was. It definitely wouldn't have been anything sexual, and Judith wasn't sure which was better: the certainty or the uncertainty. She'd forgotten what a terrifying thrill not knowing could be and she wasn't sure which was greater: the terror or the thrill.

Angel gave her the Palm when the picture was finally taken, and she sucked in a shortly-stopped breath of surprise to see it. She stared for a long time. Angel leaned over her shoulder, a smile growing on his expression.

Judith used to wear corset-like tops when she danced, although of course, to allow for movement, the tops did not have bones. Her figure, like most dancers, had made up the difference, but Judith hadn't seen herself look like that in more than 30 years. And she wasn't even sure her breasts had looked so full when she was nursing William.

"What do you think?" Angel finally asked.

Judith took a breath. "I think I should wear this under my clothes to my next bridge night. My friends will want to know which doctor I went to."

"It looks good," he agreed.

Someone at Angel's front door knocked again, and Angel and Judith turned toward the sound curiously.

"I don't have to get it this time," Angel said.

"No, go on," Judith said. "It's alright." Noticing his expression, she added, "I'll still be here when you get back."

His expression did not change, but he left, nevertheless. A few seconds later, she heard the door open and then a voice spoke that was so familiar she gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the noise.

What in Heaven's name was _Marietta_ doing there? Judith backed against the wall near the bedroom door, flattening herself against it to listen and clutching the Palm tightly in her hand. She quickly turned the sound off, just in case. In her slight panic, due partially to Marietta moving about Angel's living room and partially to the fact that she couldn't breathe like she suddenly needed to, Judith only gathered about half the words exchanged. They included something about a "resident poll" and collecting demographic information.

She did not stay long, and when Angel returned he quickly loosened some of the laces so that her heart rate could slow down again. She leaned against the wall in relief, hands resting against her flattened abdomen. She dropped her Palm on the soft chair beside her, no longer needing something to clutch.

"Marietta is not in any way designated by any sort of building committee to take a poll," Judith said as soon as she could catch her breath.

"I thought as much, "Angel replied. "Her heart was pounding."

"I think that was mine."

"She's a friend of yours?"

"Oh yes, for a long time. Longer than I've known you."

Angel frowned. "So...why would she come here?"

Judith shook her head. "I don't know."

The corner of Angel's mouth twitched. "She's onto us."

Judith's stomach clenched again, and she said, "She'd better not be."

Angel arched an eyebrow at her. "Why not?" His tone was part challenge, like he didn't really care about the answer so long as it was a good one. In other words, he was feeling playful.

Right. It would be just the _three _times, then. A smile tugged at her mouth, too. Now that it was clear…

"Because I'd be much too embarrassed to be seen with an older man like you."

Angel feigned an expression of shock and insult. He pressed his hand to his chest in a _Who, me?_ gesture.

"You know it," Judith nodded. "The things people would say…"

Angel's eyes tracked more deliberately downward again, but he maintained the posture of challenge. "Tell me."

"Ohhhh," Judith straightened up and twisted slightly toward him. "Scandalous things, like, 'He's old enough to be her ancestor.' And rude things like, 'What could she possibly see in that wrinkled face and grey hair?' And completely ridiculous things like," her eyes tracked downward, too, "'I bet it doesn't even work anymore.'"

She'd surprised Angel out of character, and his eyebrows shot up, both amused and impressed. He actually laughed.

"What?" she asked. "I can joke about it."

Angel slid a hand around the exaggerated dip in her waist. "Yes, you can." He pulled gently and she took a step forward. "I guess you've earned that right."

"To joke about your penis?" She winced. "I was secretly wondering if it was too soon."

"Nah," Angel shrugged lightly. "I have the body of a 26-year-old. I have remarkably high self-esteem, in that respect."

"Oh good," Judith smiled, running her hand up his arm that was around her to his shoulder. "We balance out well, then."

Again, she'd managed to surprise him. He tilted his head, considering her. "You don't?"

"Have the body of a 26-year-old? I _do_ hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you'll find I don't."

Angel's expression was curious to her, like something dark was coming to light. Then he kissed her and Judith sucked in a quick breath of surprise through her nose. Her hand automatically wound behind his neck.

Judith was still not used to the way Angel kissed; she was finding that she could read his lips better when they were against her body than when he was using them to speak, and the new insights were as numerous as they were unexpected. It probably shouldn't have been so surprising, since Angel was the type who tended toward action instead of words, but she had honestly not known it was possible to glean so much from a touch.

Like the way he was kissing her now: reverent, but with a hint of urgency that she took to mean that he not only liked that she didn't have a 26-year-old body, he _preferred_ it.

Why, exactly, was beyond her. Although, it actually helped that she didn't know because it meant that she was probably not making the interpretation up. Elsewise, her mind would have come up with a plausible support. Judith did not like self-deception.

When they broke apart, they did not pull away far. Angel lifted a hand to the side of her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. He caught her eye, and there was a hint of a question in it.

_Yes_, she said through her own smile. _I get it_.

Angel smiled and dropped his hand from her face, running it down the length of the curve of the corset. "I think I mentioned..." he said in a low voice. "That I'm even better at taking these off."

"Well thank god," she said, "because I really have no idea myself…"

* * *

William visited town on work-related business a few days later. Judith should have known that William would want to see Angel and Calder, and wasn't quite able to bring herself to insist that William go out and meet them at the Dragon's Crown instead of them coming to her flat-she wanted to see her son while he was in town, too.

So Angel was coming over and they had not had an encounter in the last two weeks that had not ended in sex; although, to be fair, they had also not been in any kind of social setting that prevented it. She had no idea how things were different now in the presence of others, if at all, and thus, had no idea how difficult pulling off an absolutely-everything-is-the same-as-it-ever-was air would be.

So that was why Judith busied herself more than usual with cleaning the kitchen after dinner, insisting that William stop trying to help her under the reason that he was a guest and should instead sit, have tea, and entertain her with stories about his life since they'd last seen each other at the funeral. Objectively, the stories were anything but entertaining. But subjectively, he was her son, and she would have found it entertaining that he and Kaede went on a date to the teahouse, where he ordered ginger lemon tea and a blueberry scone, if that was the story he chose to tell.

Judith let William answer the door when someone knocked, and listened while she finished wiping under the jar where she kept her cooking spoons (it was rather dusty and she decided that she should clean under there more often). It was Angel, and after he and William greeted each other, William led him into the living room as he asked about getting Angel something to drink. Judith rinsed the sponge and dried her hands on a towel, and then, taking a deep breath in, went to join them.

Angel was sitting in the far armchair in the living room with a whiskey in hand, and William was sitting on the couch adjacent to him with the same. They looked up when Judith entered the room.

Angel gave her the same small smile he usually did when they caught eyes in the Dragon's Crown. She used to think of it as the kind of smile that meant he was relieved to see a friendly face, but now she would have to reevaluate that. She returned it.

William pointed to a glass on the coffee table filled with a clear liquid. "I made you a gin and tonic, but I didn't know if you had any limes."

"Thank you, dear," Judith said as she went to pick it up. "I don't think I do." She sat down next him as William turned back to Angel and asked about his unlife. Judith remained mostly silent through the conversation, content to listen and analyze Angel's every move and tone of voice for hints of unbearable awkwardness.

She found absolutely none, despite thorough analysis. He answered William's questions with the same short directness in which he answered all questions, but with a relaxed demeanor that meant that he was glad William was back. And that was all she could find. Until,

"And Cordelia?" William asked. "Have you seen her lately?"

"About a month ago," Angel nodded, still leaning comfortably in his chair, but avoiding eye contact more than usual. "She's good."

"Good," William nodded. "Tell her hi from me next time."

Angel nodded and took a sip of his drink. Reading into it, Judith guessed that it was to avoid an uncomfortable topic, but she had to admit that her reading was probably skewed. He might simply have been thirsty.

"Oh!" William cried. "Marty! How's he doing?"

"Fine," Angel replied, looking up. "I think he just got an award or something…"

"National Bartender of the Year," Judith said. "That was two months ago. You went to the party."

Angel shrugged semi-apologetically as William gave him a look.

"But wow," William said, turning back to Judith. "Bartender of the Year. Good for him!"

Judith smiled. "Yes, he certainly earned it."

"You know," Angel said reminiscently, "he was completely green when he first started. That's the way they hired at the time. Whatshisname, the owner…" Angel snapped his fingers a few times, trying to remember. "Anyway, he liked to train them a certain way. He wouldn't hire anyone who'd gone to school for it."

"Sounds like he should have started his own school," William said. "If he's turning out award winners like Marty."

"Nah," Angel shook his head. "None of the others have measured up."

"Who _are_ the others?" William asked.

Silence fell, and Judith and Angel's frowns deepened with each moment. Judith was _sure_ she knew the names of the other Dragon's Crown employees…

Hesitantly, she offered, "Waaanda?"

"Wilma," Angel's eyebrows shot up hopefully.

"No," Judith shook her head, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Why can't I…? Oh for goodness sake…"

William looked over at Angel accusingly. "You've been going there practically every night for decades and you only know _one _employee?"

Angel shrugged innocently. "He's the only one I like." He pointed at Judith. "_She's_ the one that cares about names."

Judith was reaching something close to panic, now. "And _why_ can't I remember anyone else there?"

Someone knocked at the door again, and William stood up. "Breathe, Mum," he advised. "We forgive you." He went to answer the door. After he left the room, Judith looked up at Angel and realized he'd been watching her fret with a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"It's not funny!" she cried. "I feel terrible!"

"Oh, come on," he said. "It's a little funny."

"It's not," she insisted.

Calder entered the room behind William then, and he made a beeline for Angel. They bumped fists and mimed explosions in some old greeting that Angel had taught Calder, who found it hilarious. Then Calder caught sight of Judith. "She okay?" he asked cautiously.

"We can't remember anyone else who works at the Dragon's Crown besides Marty."

"Oh!" Calder cried like it was a test question he knew the answer to. But then he, too, faltered. He took a breath to speak, but then let it deflate, puffing his cheeks out in exasperation.

"See our problem?" William asked.

"Donna?" Calder tried. "Or Dave?" He looked at Judith again. "This must be driving you _mad_."

Judith could think of little else the rest of the evening. When the others moved on to a different topic, Judith tried to participate and enjoy her son's company, but half her mind was on the problem of forgotten names. When Angel and Calder eventually took their leave, they offered to go over to the Dragon's Crown and find out for her.

"Oh, would you?" she asked hopefully, ignoring her slight chagrin at being so obvious, since the topic was several hours old by then.

"I've got to go anyway," Angel told her. "I'll text you in a bit."

"_Thank_ you," she said gratefully.

Angel flashed her a quick smile, then asked if Calder was coming. It was a work night, which meant that it took Calder an extra three seconds to decide to go. William hugged both Calder and Angel goodbye, and then decided that he should get ready for bed for his early meeting the next day.

Sometime later, when Judith and William were in their respective beds, and Judith was starting to feel that all was right with the world having her son home, she got a message from Angel, and the resulting exclamation made William come running.

"What?" he asked from her doorway, breathless with concern.

Judith held up her Palm, having already taken off the bracelet that would have projected the message on her actual palm and set it in the recharging dish. "Winnie, Lily, Gilbert, Inge, and Leo." She breathed a deep sigh of relief.

William laughed. "Love you, Mum. Sleep well."

She did.

And technically, it was the last night of sleep she got for twelve whole days.

* * *

**A/N: **If you're following the _Blood and Time_ series, this is the point where _Pull to Open_ takes place. You do _not_ need to jump over there and read that first, unless you want to see what Angel's thinking about with all of this. (Even so, you can finish this story first and then read _Pull to Open_ and make things easier for yourself.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Good Enough Reasons**

The Doctor's visit interrupted things for Judith and Angel. Though from Judith's perspective only one night had passed, the Doctor and his ship had crashed into her world with such force that she was reminded of a much bigger perspective than the small world of work, friends, and a sudden, somewhat confusing and unmentioned sex life. She needed a few days to reorient herself, to say nothing of letting Angel reorient _himself_.

She didn't know much about what happened on his side, and could only imagine the rest: An old friend of Angel's-an alien named The Doctor-had turned up in his time machine, which had promptly disappeared when the Doctor's back had been turned too long. Angel and Judith had helped him find it in the middle of a hostile horde of demons (or aliens? Judith wasn't sure anymore), and in the chaos, Judith had found herself inside the ship as it was taking off...without Angel or the Doctor on board.

The ship was exotic and terrifying, and the ride tossed her around so hard she had a deep bruise on her hip where she'd been thrown into the railing for at least two weeks. But then, suddenly, it was over and all was quiet again. When the door opened, she found herself in Angel's flat...twelve days in the future.

Angel and the Doctor both looked weary, but Angel much more so. Exhausted, frustrated, and nearing the end of his rope; about what was where her imagination came in, but she was certain it had a lot to do with the fact that he'd suddenly gotten an energetic, talkative, eccentric roommate for the past twelve days.

Angel had hugged her like she was the living embodiment of the announcement that it was all over, that he could have his home to himself again. And then the Doctor had done the same.

It was, needless to say, a very busy and exhausting night. There was some hell to pay in the aftermath, with needing to follow the lie that the Doctor had concocted for her that she'd been in witness protection for something having to do with the mob. She didn't know how the Doctor had managed to convince her superiors at work that this was true, but he did, and he had added that she wasn't to be asked any questions about it on her return. So that was a lie that was easy to follow, even though she hated lying.

What was much more difficult was the lie given to her friends. It seemed that Angel had felt that the witness protection lie was less likely to work on them (which was probably true, especially with Claire), so they had instead gone with a lie that Judith had suddenly needed to visit her very sick mother. Which was quite difficult, since in that day and age, with communications at their easiest and most reliable, her friends were deeply confused at the sudden black out, since she'd missed bridge night and not called ahead to let them know, or after to explain her absence. What illness, they wondered, was so serious that Judith couldn't even call from the train to Limerick, or send a quick text in a spare moment?

Judith hated lying to people, and it seemed like with her friends she was doing little else lately.

Which brought her back to Angel. They had been interrupted, and so had whatever it was that had been letting them continue seeing each other without openly acknowledging it. She thought surely, now, they would have to say _something_-or rather, _she_ would have to say something. Angel had seemed much more comfortable with their unspoken arrangement (Judith found it exciting, but certainly not comfortable), so he didn't seem the likely one to bring it up, even if he now realized they must. And despite the age difference, she was the more mature of the two. Yes, it would have to be her.

That's what finally took her to the Dragon's Crown about a week after she returned. She figured that a public, well-lit area was as good a place as any to keep them from distracting the problem away.

Which was a good theory. Having asked Marty if Angel was there and been directed toward the back door, where he'd gone a few minutes ago with Grish the Goutler Demon to do things that Marty certainly didn't ask about, Judith went to find him, afraid that if she tried to wait her courage would fail her.

It wasn't so much the conversation itself that Judith was afraid of-she was comfortable with words-it was the decision they would have to make. They would either stop and acknowledge the three times as necessary: a round set of emotionally and physically fulfilling encounters. _Thank you very much, I'll see you around_.

Or...they would decide to keep going. The bad thing about that option being that it was so deliberate, so indicative of _something_ happening between them that the very thought might keep that decision from being spoken by either of them. They wouldn't be able to say it, and so...default back to option number one.

Judith tried to remember why she was bringing it up at all.

Oh, yes. So-called "maturity" and "perspective."

Judith found herself in a poorly-lit short maze of hallways where she knew there were bathrooms, but beyond that discovered a few storage rooms, an office, and a short hall with a door to the alley out back. Angel was in this hall, turning away from the door, which was drifting shut. Judith briefly saw something spiney on the other side before the door latch clicked, followed by the soft sound of an automatic lock.

Angel stopped when he saw her, surprised, still in the process of tucking something in the inside pocket of his coat. Judith found herself on a ridge, choices falling sharply to both sides of her: The rational side, which would say, "We should talk like the two adults that we are," and the emotional side, which wouldn't say anything at all. Early in her life, the emotional side had almost always won out. But she was grown up, now, and perfectly capable of choosing the rational side.

Perfectly capable.

The darkness didn't help. Nor did their relative isolation, nor that long-buried spark of attraction to dangerous things. She would re-bury it, of course, later when he wasn't kissing her back and his hands weren't under her shirt.

The fact of the matter was that Judith was enjoying having a partner again; she was enjoying having sex. She could find someone else, she supposed-it didn't have to be Angel. There were apps for that sort of thing. Surely there must be another man her age nearby just looking for someone to appreciate and have a good time with. Someone gentle, stable, a little more her league in the body department. Someone where there wasn't guessing and lies and uncontrolled-

Judith bit back a gasp.

But of course she wouldn't. Why find someone else when she had what she wanted? And when (she could only assume, the way the high-pitched moan in his throat came so softly) he had what he wanted?

The guessing was temporary, and so were the lies. It was the intimacy she ultimately craved, and Angel knew things about her that even her oldest friends didn't. He cared for her in a way that she knew and trusted. If there was any emotional reason they needed to have that conversation, they would have had it.

And besides, she thought as he pressed her against the wall, one strong hand hooking under her thigh, what 55-year-old woman didn't want to be made to feel like she was 20 again, whatever she said about the joys of aging gracefully?

* * *

It was Eliza's turn to host card-playing the next time. She lived three blocks south of Angel and Marietta's building, on the other side of one of the hospitals that Judith worked at. That section of town was mostly residential: townhouses straddling the divide between urban and suburban. At one point, Judith and Sam had been looking at moving there to add space for their growing family, but the dream had gotten pushed back behind financial concerns and then pushed under by the strain of their relationship. Judith still liked this area, but she couldn't imagine living anywhere but her flat anymore.

Eliza, though, had been living there for decades. She had also become a single mother when her husband, Macky, had died suddenly of something related to an accidental drug overdose. Macky had been on prescriptions for anxiety and depression, but Judith never knew exactly which ones, and hadn't ever had the nerve to ask.

He had left Eliza with a teenage daughter, so her single mothering experience was considerably different and shorter than Judith's, and Eliza had begun dating again within a few years. Now she was remarried-somewhat ironically to a drug addiction counselor-and Judith remained the group's token single.

There were seven women in this particular social group, all of whom knew each other from their children's primary school days. In addition to being the only single member, Judith was also the only divorcee and Eliza the only widow. Adele and Laurie were the only same-sex couple, although drama-loving Claire loved to tell the story about when her female ex-fiance left her after meeting Alejandro, and that was how Alejandro met Claire and ultimately married her. Then there was Georgiana, who was in Argentina for the winter with her husband visiting their daughter, and finally, Marietta.

"We really should all get together more often than once a year," Eliza was saying as she arranged snack bowls on the table that evening. "Julian has been asking about everyone. It's antiquated and segregationist of us, isn't it?"

While the women had card-playing penciled in for every other week, providing enough of them could show, the men (which actually included Laurie; Judith wasn't quite sure how that had happened) had their own regular meetings. And yes, it had struck Judith as exceedingly old-fashioned of them, but that was how it had turned out. None of the wives save for Laurie had any idea what the men got up to; and Laurie was tight-lipped about it. She said that she didn't divulge to the men what she knew about the women's group, so why would she betray her gentleman's group?

What Judith knew was that cigars and brandy were involved, for the way Sam would come home smelling, and she would tease him for taking trips to the 19th century instead his friends' houses. Sam was still a part of that group, and so they were guaranteed to see each other at least once a year in the spring, when Georgianna and Viggo hosted a get-together at their estate in Avignon.

There was a general exclamation of agreement from everyone else that they should socialize more often across the gender gap, and a quieter murmur of acknowledgement from Judith, who _would_ like to see her friends' spouses more often, but not her ex, if she could help it. The blood between them was not especially bad but it was also not especially good, for many reasons.

Since Georgiana was out of town and there were five of them that night, they all agreed on gin rummy instead of bridge; and Claire began passing out the drinks. People meandered toward their seats as they discussed possible dates for dinner. Judith found herself agreeing to one with Eliza and Julian in two Mondays, which Adele said that Laurie might also make (but Adele herself regrettably had another engagement).

Adele and Laurie were the oldest couple of any of them, just passing their mid-60's. They lived in a modest house in Old Galway where Adele was a preschool teacher and Laurie owned a small jeweler's shop. They were kindly and poised in their grandmotherly plumpness, and Judith often thought they looked like they had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Marietta almost immediately brought up the subject of Judith's mother and Judith's mysterious twelve-day vacation to the time vortex (which was where Angel explained that she actually was, according to the Doctor), as Judith had expected and prepared for. Well, she had worried about it and spent several hours looking up diseases that could potentially account for her having turned her Palm off and not contacted anyone for the duration of the "sickness." There were none.

So instead she gave them an emotional, "It was very exhausting and I just couldn't bear to talk to one more person about it," adding that she'd hoped that William might think to call them and let them know that she was out of town, but he was very busy himself.

Being known as The Honest One really had its advantages sometimes.

Assured that Judith and her mother were indeed fine and well on their way to recovering from an emotionally and physically trying ten days of mortal uncertainty (which Marietta sympathized with, since her husband was away in London also caring for his sick mother- "We're just hoping the angels pull through with some miracles," she told her empathetically), the mood relaxed and they moved on to other urgent topics. For example, Adele and Laurie's new grandson, over whom they all _awwww_-ed in pictures and videos.

"Oh, look at those _cheeks_!" Claire said, puffing out her own and scrunching her fingers like she wanted to grab them.

"He _looks_ like a Theo," Eliza beamed.

"Such an _angelic_ face!" Marietta cried, and Judith noticed her glance briefly in Judith's direction in a way that struck her as odd, but then Marietta twisted the holographic projection from the Palm around so Judith could see it better.

All of the comments were true, and Judith's heart melted at the thought of a grandchild. It seemed imminent now, but she had refrained herself from asking William what their plans were. She slid the Palm back down the table toward Adele. "He's beautiful," she said. "Perfect."

It took a long time to get through that first round because of all the _oooo_-ing over pictures and watching videos, but Judith eventually won it. After that, it became clear that the stars were more aligned in her favor tonight-but only for card-playing, it seemed.

While Judith continued to win rounds, Marietta continued making seemingly innocuous references to things "angelic," and then glancing briefly Judith's way whenever she did it, or otherwise had a too-innocent expression on her face. Later, Judith supposed she should have guessed what was coming, though it took long enough that she had fooled herself into believing that she really was off the hook tonight, having already been grilled once about her mother.

After several rounds, when everyone had consumed at least one drink and several handfuls of snacks, and when all of the other crucial topics had been discussed (including a long discussion about Georgiana's daughter's ex-fiancé and how none of them had really thought that he was worthy of marrying into the Maughan family anyway), Marietta spoke the words that made Judith choke on her drink:

"I know who Judy's seeing."

Everyone around the table gasped. Adele had, evidently, been filled in properly, if her equally excited reaction was any indication (as had, Judith suspected, Georgiana, whom Judith was now _exceedingly_ grateful was out of the country).

"She's _still_ seeing him?" Eliza asked Marietta as if Judith weren't there.

"Is it good?" Claire asked. "Oh _please_ tell me it's good." Judith noticed that she hadn't even waited for Marietta's reply-apparently, it was no shock to her that Judith was still seeing this mystery man.

"Oh, it's good," Marietta promised. "It's positively _outrageous_."

Judith's stomach turned over and plunged into her jelly-like guts. She turned bright red and tried to hide behind her cards while the rest of the table _oooed_ and tittered and gasped.

"Oh God, save me," Judith murmured. It was the closest she'd come to an actual prayer in years.

"So it _is_ Scott Williams?" Eliza asked.

"God, no," Marieta grimaced. "It's even better!"

"Or kill me, I don't care…"

"For heaven's sake, Mari, just tell us," Adele said.

"I think I should let Judy tell," Marietta said with a playful smirk.

Judith peered over the top of her cards and glared at Marietta. "Why on _earth _would I do that?" She lowered her cards a bit further so that her mouth wouldn't be muffled—even in times like this, Judith preferred to have clear diction. "How did you find out, anyway?"

"I think you know."

"Humor me."

Marietta leaned back comfortably in her chair. "I'll just tell the whole story, shall I?"

"Wait!" Claire jumped up from the table and dashed into the kitchen. There was a deep glass clattering sound and seconds later, she returned with several bottles of alcohol in her arms.

"Refills!" she declared, and there was an enthusiastic agreement on all sides, including—or perhaps especially—Judith. She poured herself a rather generous second helping of strong gin and tonic and tried her very best to melt into her chair and disappear entirely.

It didn't work.

"It was a Thursday evening three weeks ago just before nine o'clock at night," Marietta began, and an excited hush fell over the room, except for Claire, who cried,

"_Three weeks?_ You waited _three weeks_ to tell us?"

"Well I couldn't tell you all without Judith here, could I?" Marietta replied like it was obvious. "Just look how red she is already! Love you, dear."

Judith considered calling Marietta something rude, but decided to take the high road and ignored her instead.

"Anyway," Marietta continued as Claire and the others nodded their agreement about Marietta's decision to wait until Judith was present for this, "I was heading out to the grocer's because I needed ingredients to make quiche for the book club brunch the next day when I ran into our dear Judy in the foyer of my building. _What could she be doing here so late in the day?_ I asked myself. Well, I asked _her_ that, and she replied that she was just 'in the neighborhood' and wanted to see me personally about a cheesecake recipe that I'd promised her. Normally, that would be strange, right ladies? But this is Judith we're talking about."

There was a general nodding of heads and murmur of assent around the table and Judith took a long swig of her drink, wondering if she should be concerned that she was that predictable.

"So I promised to send the recipe along the next day, since I really had to get to the store before it closed. Did you get it, by the way, dear?"

Judith nodded.

Marietta smiled broadly. "Good. So I turned to leave and Judy did not follow me."

There was a general noise of interest.

"Naturally, I said, 'Judy, aren't you coming?' and she said yes, of course, and that her mind was elsewhere. Where did you say it was, darling?"

"William," Judith replied.

"Right…and of course, ladies, this is also not unusual for Judith, so I let that go, as well."

There were more noises of agreement and Judith frowned. She really _was_ predictable, wasn't she?

"So we left the building together," Marietta continued, "and suddenly Judith decided that she wanted to stop at the bakery; and I'm sure we _all_ know that nighttime is the _worst_ time to go to a bakery—"

"I _happen_ to like their end-of-day specials," Judith interrupted, but no one paid attention.

"I let her go, of course, but by the time I rounded the corner I was truly suspicious that something else was going on, so I doubled back just in time to see Judy going _back_ into the building."

Judith cursed silently. She should have actually gone into the bakery for good measure. The other women buzzed with speculation, but quieted as soon as Marietta started talking again.

"Well, I really did need to get to the store—you can't make a quiche with just two eggs!"

The women laughed, although Claire's expression was one of someone who knew she was supposed to laugh but didn't get the joke - Claire rarely cooked.

"I went to the store and came home, thinking all the while. There is one other person in my building that I _know_ Judy knows, so I followed my hunch. I looked his flat number up in the directory and marched right on up and knocked on his door…"

The women waited with baited breath and eyes round with anticipation.

"He's _very_ handsome, Judy. Despite my own misgivings about him. To each her own, I guess..."

Judith took another long sip of her drink and then locked her jaw closed.

Marietta continued with a dramatically quiet tone; she _had_ been waiting quite a long time for this reveal, and apparently she was going to enjoy it. "I told him I was taking a poll for the building and needed to ask some questions, so I walked in… I looked around…keep in mind, ladies, it was after ten o'clock at night by this point…and sure enough, Judith's lovely brown suede Oliver Kark coat was hanging by the door."

There were several squeals and claps.

Judith frowned deeply. "That line about the poll was ludicrous."

"I beg to differ, dear. Do you know what I found out, thanks to my little poll? Well, you must, of course, you were hiding behind the bedroom door, I'm sure."

The other women laughed, hardly able to control their utter delight.

Eliza prodded Marietta's arm. "What? What did you find out?"

Marietta smirked. "His age."

A stunned silence briefly followed before the women fairly pounced on Marietta—Claire knocked a bowl of pretzels to the floor. Judith bit her lip.

Marietta savored the moment and waited to answer the women's pleas to tell them how old Judith's new lover was. Finally, she held up a hand for silence like a conductor in an orchestra. She opened her mouth and said with perfect annunciation, "Twenty-nine."

Adele dropped her glass on the table. Eliza shrieked. Claire rounded on Judith, her mouth wide with delightfully-scandalized shock. "_Judith Marie Thacker Cole!_"

Judith felt simultaneously like she wanted to melt away _and_ explode into tiny, irretrievable pieces. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Immediately on her right, Adele focused an intense gaze of shock on Judith. "You're sleeping with a man who's _younger_ than _your son?_"

"No," Judith squeaked through her fingers, horrified. She lifted her hand away and pressed it against her heart instead. "No, I swear I'm not."

"Not what?" Adele asked. "Sleeping with him?"

"No, I am," Judith admitted—what was the point in denying it now? "But he lied about his age."

Eliza narrowed her eyes skeptically. "Oh come on, Judy…"

"Marietta," Judith turned to her with a pleading expression to be reasonable. "You know he's lived in your building a long time _and_ that he used to tutor Will. He can't possibly be younger than my son."

Marietta frowned and seemed to be trying to puzzle that out, but Eliza and Claire gasped simultaneously in realization, redirecting the conversation.

"He's not that dark-haired man you ran into when we were going out for chocolate?" Claire asked. "Who smelled like...what was it? Sulfur?"

"That's the one," Marietta confirmed, shaking her head a little to bring her focus back. "He _really_ is an odd one. But I trust Judith's judge of character…" She said this like one might say the phrase, _Girls will be girls..._, so Judith doubted the true extent of that trust. Not that Marietta was at all wrong.

"Damn…" Claire said approvingly. "He is _beautiful_. So long as he doesn't always smell like that."

"Do all of you know what he looks like but me?" Adele asked, shaking her head disapprovingly. "No good. Show us a picture."

"He'll be in the building directory," Marietta said. "Hold on…" She pulled out her Palm and several seconds later held it out to Adele, who took it and squinted at the picture through her reading glasses.

"Not bad…" Adele said, though she sounded like she didn't entirely agree. She focused on something toward the bottom of the screen. "His name is Angel?"

Judith couldn't help it. She leaned over to see the picture.

It looked more like a mug shot. Judith had forgotten how surly he'd been in the early years. "Oh, that's a terrible photo," she said.

"I bet you have some good ones," Eliza smiled.

Claire snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet she has some _really_ good ones."

"_Claire!_" Judith cried.

"Go on, then," Adele said to Judith. "Show us some good ones. And seriously: Angel? It doesn't even list a last name."

"Actually," Claire mused, "that's a fair question. It's kind of porn star, no? I guess he _could_ be older if he's had plastic surgery, like they do. Are you dating a porn star, Judy?"

Judith obligingly pulled out her Palm as she glared at Claire. "Certainly _not_. He is not a porn star and we are not dating and he has not had plastic surgery and his name is _just_ Angel." After she'd said it, she thought that maybe it would have been easier to let them believe the story, but with a lie that big, she wasn't sure she would have physically been able to.

Palms automatically scanned photos for recognizable faces and tagged them accordingly, so it was easy for Judith to filter for pictures of Angel and find some from William's wedding for Adele to see. The ladies had seen wedding pictures, of course, but Judith had been careful to withhold the ones that prominently featured Angel, lest Marietta recognize her neighbor, or any of them comment on who this man was who appeared with them all as often as a family member might have.

Judith handed the Palm to them and Adele immediately made a pulling gesture like tugging something out of the screen. The picture Judith had chosen of William and his groomsmen appeared in holo-projected form for everyone to see. Adele set the Palm on the table and reached out to adjust the screen so that it was vertical - it would be mirrored for the ladies on the backside of it, but they would be able to see it just as clearly. Judith settled back nervously in her seat as Marietta pointed out which one was Angel.

Adele whistled appreciatively-more inclined than her wife to find men attractive also-and began to flick through the pictures. The entire table of women leaned and craned to find the best view of the projection. Claire, who sat just to Judith's left and had one of the worse viewing angles, muttered something about how someday they would figure out spherical photography. Judith crossed her arms and took a long swig of her drink, contemplating running away while they were distracted.

One of the pictures in particular elicited several admiring murmurs and comments, and Adele looked over briefly to ask, "You weren't sleeping with him at this point, were you?"

"No," Judith replied uncomfortably, glancing up at the photo they'd paused on. It was one she had always liked: a flattering candid shot of herself and Angel waltzing at the reception; the photographer had managed to capture Angel with a rare smile. She added, "We've been friends for a long time, but this," (for once, she didn't feel the need to specify what "this" was) "is a very recent development."

"He is _quite_ fine," Adele agreed, glancing back at the photo. "So how old is he _really_?"

Judith swallowed uncomfortably. "I'd rather not say."

"Why?" Adele looked at Judith again. "He's not _younger_ than 29, is he?"

"No! Heavens, no. It's just… Look, let it be, alright? It's a sensitive topic." She had researched possible reasons that a dire illness could keep someone from turning on their Palm, but it hadn't occurred to her to come up with a plausible reason that her 475-year-old lover, who died when he was 26, might lie and say he was 29 when really, he should have said somewhere north of 37 to avoid the indecency line. She just _wasn't prepared_ for this sort of thing.

The other ladies sat back down slowly, glancing at each other for ideas about what to make of that.

"Alright, dear, we'll let it go…" Adele said slowly, glancing back at the screen, as if the picture would give her a clue. She minimized the projection, but picked the device up and started flicking through again.

Eliza hesitated. "So... Where did you meet him?"

"As I said, he used to tutor William."

"In what?"

Judith shifted in her seat. "Oh, history, languages, martial arts… Can we please not talk about him?"

Judith's friends glanced at each other again.

"Sweetheart…are you okay?" Claire reached out from Judith's left to touch her elbow.

"Fine," Judith replied shortly. "I would just…_really_ rather not talk about it."

There was a moment of tense silence. Finally Adele said, "We can help you, dear. That's what we're here for. You don't need to be ashamed of it…" Something seemed to occur to her suddenly. "He's not married, is he?"

"No," Judith replied. "And I'm not ashamed. Really. That's not the problem."

"Then what is the problem?"

Judith shook her head. There were too many problems all tangled together, and she really couldn't have described them even if she wanted to. They were already too close to the topic of Angel being a vampire, and they'd only asked the supposedly easy questions.

There was a sudden gasp from Adele and everyone's heads snapped toward her. She looked up, seemingly alarmed at her own exclamation. Claire threw herself across the table and grabbed the Palm out of Adele's hand, who made a short noise of protest, and then Claire yelled,

"Oh my _god!_"

That was the end of any semblance of decorum in the room for the next several minutes.

It turned out that Adele had found the picture of Judith in the corset (Judith must have neglected to filter for just Angel's face and not geography related to Angel - like his home), and really, though Judith's night had already taken a sharp nosedive, that was where it crashed and exploded.

Amid cries of glee, envious admiration, and teasing jabs, she somehow managed to pass off the situation with a story about him growing up the son of historical reenactors, which sufficiently explained both how the topic had come up and how he'd managed to find an authentically-made costume (and why he might be a good history tutor-it was one lie that went right).

Beyond that, she had nothing to say. Claire had tried to turn the situation into something delightfully scandalous, which Judith quickly dampened by sheer force of mood. All four of her friends became deeply concerned at that point, and all four leaned toward her that was supposed to be some sort of net of support, but came off more as an encroaching pride lions. Well-meaning lions, she granted.

"Judith," Adele said in a soft but firm voice that belied her career as a preschool teacher. "What aren't you telling us?"

Claire held up a hand. "Wrong question," she told Adele. "Judith…" Judith noticed that they were using her full name, which was how she preferred it, but because of the affectionate way they called her "Judy," had gotten used to the nickname. "Why aren't you happy?"

_That_ was a good question.

She'd thought she _was_ happy. But as soon as Claire asked, Judith realized that she couldn't truthfully say she was-not without reservation-and she didn't think it was entirely due to overwhelming embarrassment.

The table waited.

"Because there's too much I can't tell you," Judith finally said. "And I wish I could." That was a good answer. It covered most of the bases.

Marietta tilted her head to one side. "You mean about his age?"

"Lots of things," Judith replied.

Claire cleared her throat and Judith looked at her. "What _else_ aren't you happy about?"

Judith picked up her glass and took a long drink. Everyone watch her carefully. Finally, she said, "Probably less than I should be, considering the circumstances. And probably more than I should be, if what I _think _are the circumstances are true."

Claire frowned. "That didn't make any sense."

Judith sighed. "I know." It didn't to her, either.

After a moment of silence, Eliza asked, "Well?"

Another long moment passed. Judith sipped at her drink absently once, and then once again. Not talking about things was the way her family dealt with their problems, not how Judith dealt with them. But even now, decades out from her family's influence, holding it in was a habit that she occasionally had to remind herself to break.

"We're not in love," she said finally. "Which is _fine_. But it was supposed to be just the once. So I'm...confused." Yes, confused worked. She had the facts (they were sleeping together, they enjoyed sleeping together, they apparently weren't going to stop, and they were not in any other way romantically involved), but she didn't know what to _do_ with those facts, beyond her one failed attempt to talk about it. Judith rarely didn't know what to do with facts anymore, and she even more rarely failed at conversation. She'd seen Angel once more since then and didn't even try to bring it up again, lest she fail a second time.

She had paused long enough for Claire to ask, "How many times?"

Judith bit her lower lip. "Six. And we haven't talked about it."

"At all?" Laurie asked.

Judith shook her head. "So I don't know what to think. It's like there's a threshold. Everything is normal between us until-very suddenly-it's not, and neither of us want to break the moment. And then the moment is over and the one of us leaves before the other wakes up, and it never gets talked about."

Claire shifted a bit in her seat so she was facing Judith more fully. "What are you afraid one of you will say if you bring it up?"

Judith swallowed. "That we need to stop."

The other women nodded in ways that were both knowing and empathetic.

Marietta asked, "_Should_ you stop?"

Another good question. Being friends with Angel was one thing: it was easier to let the fact that he was a vampire stay in the realm of Accepted But Not Condoned. Sleeping with him was...well, not exactly against her moral standards, but harder to accept for some reason. There was a line that she couldn't articulate, but she was toeing it.

On the other hand, he didn't act on his evil impulses, and that choice that he made was what helped her accept-love-him as a friend. That should have been worth enough to carry it through beyond, shouldn't it?

"I don't know," she said. "I guess not."

"Why don't you want to?" Claire asked.

Judith didn't answer right away, the answers coming to her like a flood, sweeping her away in a confusing (and exciting) wash of recent memories. When she found her footing again in her own mind, there was one clear answer, "Because he makes me feel desirable."

There was a soft, collected _Mmm_ of knowing around the table. Judith looked at her Palm in front of Claire, which had turned itself off, now, and sat up to draw it toward her.

"Just after that picture was taken," she began, and they all knew which one she meant, though she didn't turn the device on again, "we were talking about youth-because he looks so young, like he could be twenty-nine," she inclined her head toward Marietta. "And how, costume or not, I don't." She hesitated.

"And then he kissed me, and I knew that it didn't matter to him. That...if he had magical powers or the secret to eternal youth, he'd choose me exactly as I am." Which he did, actually, and, yes, he did to the second one, too. And he had chosen.

"I used to worry that Sam wouldn't feel that way about me when we reached this age. Actually," she chuckled, "I guess he doesn't. But when I'm with Angel… I've never-not once-thought that I was anything less than exactly what he wanted in that moment."

Judith looked up. The other women were smiling at her dreamily.

"Wow," Eliza breathed.

"He's falling for you," Claire said matter-of-factly.

Judith shook her head. "No. He's not."

"Uh. _Yes_. He is," Claire insisted.

"He's _not_," Judith repeated firmly, catching Claire's eye.

"How do you know?" Claire challenged.

"Because…" The other complicating factor… "He's in love with someone else."

A stunned silence followed before Claire leaned in further. "Who?"

"A woman," Judith said unhelpfully.

"Gonna need more than that," Claire said.

Judith briefly explained the situation with Cordelia as best she could.

"So... " Claire tried to sort it out. "He sees _her _when she comes into town. He sees _you _the rest of the time. And when she comes back, you're totally okay with him going to her because he's in love with her and she's in love with him and you're not in love with either of them?"

Judith winced.

Claire held up a hand. "Not a judgment. Just clarifying."

"Yes," Judith said. "That's about it."

"Huh." Claire nodded. The rest of the table was still conspicuously silent.

"So…" Claire started again. "You're in an open polyamorous relationship."

"No," Judith insisted.

"Right," Claire quickly agreed. "Poly_amor_ous implies _amor_. What would it be, then? Polysexual? Whatever, it's poly and it's open, and you're in it."

Judith was about to protest again, but then the argument sank in. Heavily. Her jaw opened with the weight of it. "Oh my god," she said breathlessly. "Oh. My. God."

Adele placed a hand comfortingly on Judith's shoulder.

"Oh my _god,_" Judith repeated. "What the _hell _am I doing?"

A collective sigh of relief went around the table, and Claire said, "_There_ she is, ladies." Claire took one of Judith's hands in both of her own. "It's okay, my dear Judith, we will get you through this."

"Until just now," Judith said weakly, "I wasn't aware there was anything _to _get through…"

Claire nodded knowingly. "Good sex will blind you like that. And I know there's nothing wrong with open or poly relationships if that's your thing, but Judy: it's not your thing."

Judith shook her head. "Right, no, it's not." She wouldn't have thought. She was loyal to the people she loved, and loyalty's lover was jealousy. She didn't condemn other people in open relationships, but she never thought she could have done it herself.

But she _had_ done it. She'd done it, and she didn't even realize it. "Maybe," she said, thinking out loud, "it's because we're _not_ in love." She looked at her friends for confirmation. "Is _that_ why I didn't notice? Does it not count as an open relationship if it's not a relationship?"

"No, it counts," Claire said thoughtfully, letting go of Judith's hand. "You know, the whole lack-of-emotions thing is working in your favor now, Judy, but you're going to get attached."

"Yes," Marietta agreed, "and _then_ what?"

"I-" Judith had no idea. It _was_ likely that she'd get attached. Indeed, and _then_ what? "So I _should_ stop," she concluded, and a lead weight sank in her stomach to say it. Was that attachment already setting in?

"Depends," Claire tilted her head with the word. "How often does Lover Girl come into town?"

"It was almost two years, this last time."

Claire made a noise of consideration. "And how long does she stay?"

"I'm not sure," Judith replied. "I've never heard of her staying longer than a day or two."

There were murmurs of ambivalence around the table. Adele spoke up, "If you can let him go for that day or two, it could work out…"

"Or he could just not tell you," Claire suggested.

"Judy," Marietta leaned forward. "I don't think you'd _want_ that."

Judith was unsure of what she wanted, now. Life had changed so suddenly, and she'd _thought_ that she liked it. "You think I should stop," she told Marietta.

"Well," Marietta straightened her shoulders. "I told you, I have misgivings about him anyway. I will love you no matter what, but yes, for your sake, I think you should stop."

Judith looked at Eliza, the next person on the right. "You?"

Eliza grimaced. "Like Mari says, I'll love you no matter what, but…"

Judith nodded and turned to Adele beside her.

"I…" Adele said slowly, "...am not in your shoes. In the short term, no. It sounds amazing, what you have. But in the long term...probably yes."

Judith nodded and turned to Claire on her other side, who held up a hand. "_I_ wouldn't stop. And I'd kind of like to see what happens if you don't. But...it's probably safer if you do." She shrugged. "Your choice."

Judith nodded and sighed heavily.

Her choice.

* * *

Judith was standing outside her building by the time she called Angel, somehow unwilling to make the call somewhere warmer and brighter. She pressed the Palm to her ear nervously as she waited for him to answer, needing to keep the call audio rather than video.

"Hey," he said after a few rings. He sounded so...normal.

"Hi," she said a bit breathlessly, though part of that was from walking in the cold night air. She swallowed. Emotions could be involved, she reminded herself. She forced the words out. "Will you come over? I think we should talk."

There was a deep pause and Judith could almost hear his silent curse. "Yeah, of course," he said. "See you soon." He hung up before she could say goodbye, but Judith found she didn't mind. She looked up at the windows to her flat on the third floor, and she went inside to wait for him.

* * *

Claire and Marietta were worried about Judith.

Their routes home were similar enough that they walked together, diving into an analysis of what exactly had happened that night. Marietta worried that they had made things worse for Judith, for how miserable she'd looked when she left, but Claire insisted that they'd done the right thing and that they shouldn't stop there. They loved Judith dearly, after all, so they _had_ to help her.

_But what could be done?_ Marietta wondered.

"We figure out just who this Angel-guy is," Claire said matter-of-factly. "We'll follow your hunch about him, and if he really is as untrustworthy as you think, we'll have something to tell Judith."

"Oh Claire, I don't know…"

"Mari," Claire said, sliding her arm around her friend. "Judith is not okay. We have to do something, and that something right now is to at least make sure she's safe. You know, just a simple background check to make sure she's not seeing a mass murderer or a rapist or a sadist or something." She smiled. "Right? So tell me about him."

"Well…" Marietta thought for a moment and then began to list the few things she'd observed about Angel: how cold and reserved he always was, how he often walked with a limp or dripping blood, or some other injury, how he never seemed to age even though he'd been there- Marietta had to think for a minute… Certainly more than ten years, but she thought it must be even longer.

"It's _got_ to be surgery," Claire muttered. "Okay, what else? You were in his flat. What was it like?"

This turned out to be a much more interesting discussion because of the amount of wood and paper books he had, and Marietta told Claire all that she could remember.

When she was done, Claire tapped her chin thoughtfully. "That's first on our list, then," she said after a moment.

"What?"

"Finding out what kind of books he has. You can tell a lot about a person by the kind of books they keep, especially if they're paper. Let's go see him."

Marietta protested a bit, but it turned out she needn't have. They had just reached Angel and Marietta's building when he came out the front door. His shoulders and head were bent against the cold (and, it seemed to Marietta, against any people he might pass—he really did not seem like a warm enough person for Judith to be attracted to), and he walked down the few steps to the sidewalk with a resigned determination, like he didn't want to go wherever he was going, but he also didn't want to dawdle.

Claire nudged Marietta's ribs as they approached the steps, and Marietta said without thinking what she would follow it with,

"Angel?"

Angel stopped and turned around. Marietta took a deep breath. Claire nudged her again, and Marietta trotted forward, swallowing nervously. She held out her hand, halting as far as she could away from him without the reach being awkward. "Marietta Goldberg, from your building. Here. This building. Remember?"

"Of course," he replied, taking her hand and dropping it quickly (he wasn't wearing gloves, she noticed, which was maybe why he always kept his hands in his pockets?). "You were taking the poll…"

"R-right. I was. Yes." She glanced at Claire, who nodded minutely this time. "Look, I was wondering... I noticed all the paper books in your apartment…"

Angel stared at her expectantly.

Marietta swallowed. "And I wanted to know…" She cleared her throat. "Where did you get them? You don't see a collection like that anymore." She winced inwardly. You didn't see a collection like that _ever_.

Angel shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression remained skeptical. "There are shops around…"

"Where?"

Angel narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You see, I ask because I'm looking for something to give to my brother-in-law for his birthday and…he likes books."

"E-books are cheaper," Angel said.

"Not _those_ kind of books," Marietta replied. She hadn't seen any of the titles of Angel's books, but she assumed they must be of some specific importance for someone to go through the trouble of preserving and reselling them. She seemed to have hit a mark because Angel's expression shifted ever so slightly from skeptical and cold to surprised and cold. Marietta went with it. "He likes rare books of a…" she faltered, "_special_ variety. If you know what I mean."

Angel stared at her an extra moment and said, "Try Ferguson's. About two blocks north on the other side of Ballybaan."

"Thank you," Marietta smiled. Angel just continued to frown at them skeptically. "Well…we won't hold you up any longer…" She nudged Claire and they started to move away.

"I trust that you know," Angel said, and they turned, "not to touch anything if you don't know what it does."

Marietta smiled, though it was an odd and slightly eerie statement. "Right. Thank you, we won't."

Then Angel turned and walked away, more quickly than Marietta thought should be possible.

"That was weird," Claire said softly.

"He's creepy." Marietta shivered. "I'm worried for Judy. I don't think he's the type to take rejection lightly."

"Me neither. When does this Ferguson's place open tomorrow?"

Marietta tapped the ring on her finger and her Palm screen lit up onto her hand. She looked up the shop and her eyebrows shot up. "It's open now. It's _late _for a rare bookstore."

"Then let's go see exactly what kind of 'special' books Angel collects…"

* * *

"You know," Judith said as Angel stepped through the door past her, "I think at this point you don't need to wait for me to open the door…"

Angel gave a little shrug. "I'm kind of not really sure of anything when it comes to you these days," he admitted.

Judith was relieved to hear it, actually. She wasn't the only one, then.

"I know," she said softly and shut the door. There was a pause, and then she asked, "Tea?"

Angel shook his head. "Let's just have it out."

Letting out a breath of resignation, Judith nodded. She led the way into the living room, but neither of them seemed to want to sit down. They stared at the couches for a long moment, and then both decided to break the silence.

Angel asked, "Are you ending it?" at the same time as Judith asked, "What are we doing?"

They looked at each other in surprise.

"No," Judith said. She had thought long and hard all the way home and during the agonizing several minutes it took for Angel to get there, and despite the vote her friends had cast for her, Adele was right: they _didn't_ know everything. Judith had rules about moral values to keep her safe, but she didn't have rules about _safety _to keep her safe-just normal caution. And, despite the compelling logic, it didn't _feel_ like an unsafe situation. Not right now, anyway. But then, _she _didn't have all the information, either. That was why she was asking.

Angel's shoulders relaxed a bit. "And I don't know what we're doing," he said in response to her question. "But...it kinda felt like that was the point."

Judith nodded. "I thought so too."

"Until?"

She smiled grimly. "I got accidentally launched outside the universe. It wedged a bit of reality in me. And also mostly my friends; who love me no matter what I might do."

"...Ah." Angel nodded. "They know."

"It was better when they didn't," Judith said before she meant to.

"Why?"

Judith grimaced. That was personal.

A smile slid into the corner of Angel's mouth. "You liked the secret."

There was that jolt of intimate connection in her heart again. Was it his skill with psychology and body language, or did he just understand her that well? She inclined her head. "But I guess secrets are short-lived excitements anyway."

Angel nodded. "Short-lived," he repeated quietly. "Sounds an awful lot like an ending to me."

Judith frowned at him, unaccountably annoyed. "Do _you_ want it to be?"

"No," Angel replied. "But I'm not the one throwing around terms like 'short-lived.'"

"_Secrets_ are short-lived," Judith said emphatically. "Not...whatever this is."

Angel thought about the distinction for a moment and then said, "Oh. Sorry."

Judith let out a breath of laughter. "Honestly…"

Angel glanced once around the room before his gaze rested on her, and he looked statue-esque, yet vulnerable. "So...is that it?"

Judith folded her arms over her chest. "Not quite… There is-" She hesitated, hating that her friends made her realize that this was what she really needed to bring up. In comparison, _What are we doing?_ seemed trivial to ask. "The thing is… Do you love me?"

Angel took a step back, like a wave had hit him and he had to regain his balance. "I…" he started awkwardly. "Like a friend, of course, but…" He gave her a look of such terrified uncertainty that felt a little sorry for him.

"It's okay, Angel," she said quickly, and he relaxed a little bit, but she didn't let up the questioning. "But if we keep doing this, do you think you will?"

"I-" Angel said again, shifting another step back. "Honestly, I have no idea. This is...so new."

"Yes," Judith agreed. "It is, and that's part of the appeal. Angel, I'm with you: I'm not in love with you and I don't know what will happen if we keep doing this and I think I could go on blissfully not caring and just waiting to see what happens," she took a long, refilling breath, "except..."

"Except?"

She hesitated. "Cordelia. She _is_ in the future."

Angel's mouth made a soft, _Oh_. After a long moment of thought, he said, "You're worried that you'll fall in love and I won't. That I'll still be in love with her."

"That _is_ the worst case scenario," Judith said.

Angel thought for another moment before he said, "Not exactly."

She gave him a questioning look.

"I could fall in love...and you won't. Then it'd be two of you I can't be with."

Judith's expression softened a bit. He was right; she'd been self-centered not to see it. They both had things at stake.

"But," Angel continued, "it's a risk I'm still willing to take."

"Why?" she asked.

He made a forward shrugging motion with his shoulders. He opened his mouth and hesitated. "I don't want to stop. It's...too good. With you. Because I know you." He added quickly, "And _you_ yourself, of course. You're good, too. Really…good."

Judith found that she was smiling, both at his ineloquence and at his sentiment.

Angel didn't seem to know what to do with that, so he continued, "And, you know, because of that, and the fact that I've got the body of a 26-year-old _and_ I'm a vampire…" Angel rubbed at the back of his head self-consciously, "and as you've already noted, vampires are sex symbols in literature for a _reason_, so when I get going like this it's just kind of hard for me to stop-and please _god_ stop me from talking."

Judith crossed the few steps between them and kissed him, and he relaxed against her. His arms slid around her back and the kiss deepened. She could feel his relief; almost as if it was their first kiss in years, not days.

"Thanks," he said when they broke apart.

Judith smiled at him. "Feeling better?" she asked.

Angel grimaced ambivalently. "Mostly," he admitted.

Judith frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Well…" Angel shifted as their hands dropped from each other. "You haven't said- Is it worth the risk to you?"

"Oh," Judith blinked. She'd thought that was implied from the rest of their conversation, but she hadn't actually said it, had she? "Yes. Yes, it's worth the risk to me."

Saying it out loud, though, made the risk seem more frightening. She met his eyes, determined, and gave him a small smile.

"Why?" he asked her.

She had asked him and he'd answered, so it was only fair that she should answer, too. But she found with a little squirm of embarrassment that she didn't want to. "Are you going to make me say it?"

The corner of Angel's mouth twitched. "I did," he pointed out. "And made a damn fool of myself."

Judith sighed. They were supposed to give spiritually enlightened answers like, _Because I love and respect you as a human being-_ forget the vampire part for a moment -_and I know that if I act out of the purest motivations of my heart, everything will work out exactly the way it's supposed to._

Or even a selfless answer like, _I want to be the best friend to you I possibly can, even if I end up getting hurt_.

Not something so carnal as _Because it feels really good with you._ Flattering as that was.

"I have many internal defenses in place to prevent me from making a fool of myself," Judith replied delicately, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Well you wouldn't have to ramble the way I did," Angel pointed out. "Just tell me why it's worth the risk to you."

Judith shifted her weight uncomfortably. "It's just- Don't you think that we should have better reasons than 'I like it a lot with you'?"

Angel smiled a little and then shrugged. "I thought we were trying to keep it simple. What's simpler than that?"

Well that was true…

"Look, Judith, I'm kind of the champion of self-sacrifice," Angel continued. "And I probably always will be because it's who I am, but that doesn't mean I'm not aware that things get a _lot_ clearer when you cut out the more noble motivations. It's not like we're _not _going to take care of each other, regardless of what happens, right? That's a given."

Judith nodded in agreement.

"So...since that's a given, I think it's okay to be a little selfish about this risk you're potentially taking." Angel shifted his weight and glanced up at the ceiling a little coyly. "And a little compliment on top of that never hurt anyone…"

Judith gave a little laugh. "Alright," she gave in. She sighed and repeated, "Alright… It's worth the risk because...I'm enjoying our time together too much to stop."

Angel smiled with one side of his mouth. "Well, it's a start. We can work on the making-a-fool-of-yourself part later."

Judith chuckled and then hesitated, teetering on the moment. Before, the signals would have urged her to step forward and lean in again with a playful response on her lips. Once the moment was started, it didn't stop. Why would it? A kiss like she'd given him earlier was something couples left it at. The moment was well-started now...but it could continue later, couldn't it? Not left off per se, just...delayed.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Yeah."

Yes. Now that the mood wasn't in danger of being broken. Now that they had time beyond Right Now. Other things could safely slide in. The moment could be prolonged.

She stepped away led him into the kitchen.


	4. Chapter 4

**By the Way, You're a Vampire**

The soft ring of Judith's Palm woke her out of a deep sleep. Thinking it was her alarm at first, she tapped the nightstand to snooze it. But then she realized that the ring was different and it didn't stop with the tap. She cracked one eye open to look at the screen.

Claire Renato was calling her. Judith opened both eyes blearily and looked at the time. 2:47am. Beside her, Angel stirred.

Judith pressed the answer button, not realizing that the call was coming in through video instead of just audio, and Claire's frantic expression immediately came on screen. Judith blinked in the brightness.

"_Judith_, thank god! _Please_ tell me Angel is with you!"

"Claire?" Judith rubbed at her eyes to wipe the sleep out. "What's wrong?"

"It's Mari," Claire said urgently. "Look." She centered the camera on something else and it took Judith a moment to get her bearings. It looked like Marietta's flat, by the sage green couch that took up most of the screen. On the couch was Marietta. She was writhing.

Suddenly more awake, Judith propped herself up on one elbow and brought the screen closer. Marietta was mumbling a stream of nonsense words that sounded like pure anguish.

Judith felt Angel shift behind her as he sat up to look over her shoulder. It seemed to take him a moment to wake up, too, but then suddenly, his arm was reaching around her to angle the screen to a better position for him to see it.

Claire reappeared in that moment, and her expression became slightly relieved. "Oh good, Angel," Judith shifted uncomfortably and made sure the blankets appropriately covered her, but Claire didn't seem to notice. "Tell me you can help her," she said desperately.

"What happened?" Angel asked.

"Well we went to that bookstore," Claire began rapidly, "and _you're_ a vampire."

Judith's mouth dropped open slightly and she wondered how on earth going into a bookstore made Angel a vampire. Angel seemed unperturbed, though.

"What did she touch?" he asked.

"Nothing weird, I promise," Claire held up her hand in solemn oath.

Angel sighed sharply. Taking the Palm from Judith, he sat up all the way. "She touched _something_, or else she's been taking lessons in Kaurish-an ancient, _evil _demonic language-for fun lately." Judith's stomach felt icy cold. "What did she touch?"

"Er…" Claire bit her lip. "Books. A candle… She showed me some pretty stones…"

"How pretty?" Angel asked in a low voice.

"Uhh…" Claire faltered under the intensity of his gaze.

"Was there a ruby?" Angel asked.

"Might have been, yeah."

"On the top shelf?"

Claire nodded. "Definitely was, yeah."

"_Shit_," Angel spat bitterly.

"Why?" Judith asked, sitting up, thoroughly alarmed.

Angel glanced back at her, but didn't answer. "No, it's okay," he muttered, "it's probably just an echo. It's not like she would have bled on it."

Claire gave him a wide-eyed look. "Uhhhhhh…"

"You're kidding," Angel told her.

"Well…" Claire winced. "One of the books gave her a kind of nasty papercut. It might have been before she touched the ruby."

"Might have been?" Angel repeated. "You've got to be sure."

"Well, I'm not," Claire said. "What if she did?"

Angel threw the covers off himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "She'll die," he told her bluntly. Fear gripped Judith's stomach. "We'll be there soon," he told her, and hung up, tossing the Palm back to Judith.

"How certainly?" Judith asked as she grabbed at whatever clothes she could find first.

"If she bled on it?" Angel took a second to calculate as he pulled his pants over his hips. "Almost definitely."

"How can we find out?"

"We're going to pay Ferguson a visit."

* * *

Angel pounded on the locked door and called for Ferguson to come out, once in English and then again in Korean. Nothing stirred inside. Angel pounded again, shouted something else in Korean, and suddenly a light flicked on above the shop.

A few seconds later, an aging Korean man in thin slippers and what looked like a child-sized robe appeared and, grumbling, unlocked the door. "What do you w-"

But Angel pushed his way inside and made a beeline for the back of the shop; Judith followed.

"Now see here, Angel," the shopkeeper hobbled after them. "You can't just—"

"Two women came in here earlier," Angel interrupted, scanning the crowded shelves for something. "A redhead and a Mediterranean. Do you remember them?"

"I don't have to divulge anything about my customers to you," Ferguson crossed his arms defiantly.

Angel shot him a glare so intimidating that Judith herself stepped back.

"But of course, people who don't buy anything aren't customers," Ferguson said quickly. "What do you want to know?"

"Did you tell them I'm a vampire?" He craned his neck, scanning the top shelves intently as he passed.

The man suddenly paled. "I- N-no, of course not. Why would I- I know, you told me, you don't like being talked about, so I didn't. No sir, Angel, I did not talk about you at all."

"But you showed them books that have me in it?"

"Well, er…" The shopkeeper said nervously.

Angel suddenly found what he was looking for: a small, highly polished ruby. He tugged the sleeve of his jumper out from under his jacket and used the cloth as a protective barrier to pick up the ruby and sniff it. Then Angel swore so foully that Judith actually flinched.

He pocketed the ruby and made for the exit, Judith following closely.

"Hey!" Ferguson called, shuffling behind them as fast as he could. "You have to pay for that!"

"I'll bring it back," Angel snarled. "Be grateful I'm not keeping it for collateral damage."

They left before Ferguson could decide if he was more angry or terrified, his sputters following them into the night.

The walk to Angel and Marietta's building seemed to take forever and the cold dread in Judith's stomach seemed to weigh her down. They actually took the lift when they got to the building because it was much faster than the stairs.

"She's never invited you in," Judith said softly as the lift rose up to the fourth floor.

"No," Angel agreed.

They didn't say anything else.

"Oh thank _god!_" Claire cried when she threw open the door. "Hurry!"

Judith stepped over the threshold, but Angel pressed his hand against it and shook his head.

"Is she at all coherent?" he asked Claire, who was looking at the invisible barrier with amazement.

"I- No, not really," she replied.

Judith, who was now at the couch, knelt next to the writhing, murmuring Marietta and shook her shoulder gently, trying to get a response. She looked terrifying to Judith: a familiar person acting so...unfamiliarly. Possessed.

That was what it was, she knew. Angel hadn't said so, but she could put two and two together. She turned back to him, caught his eye, and shook her head.

"Okay…" Angel said softly, thinking. "Okay. Can you guys get her to the door?"

"We're bringing her downstairs?" Judith asked.

Angel nodded. "All my stuff's there anyway."

Claire hurried over and together, they managed to get Marietta into a sitting position on couch. The next part turned out to be much harder. With Marietta thrashing, she managed to pull herself out of their grasp more than once, falling back against the couch. Angel shouted urgent instructions from the door on how to hold someone in a proper grip, but they had a hard enough catching a grip, much less keeping it.

Finally, they stood up with Marietta between them, her arms held tightly over their shoulders, and began half walking, half dragging her toward the door. The path seemed endless, with Marietta's weight thrown unpredictably around and Judith's palms sweaty with exertion.

"You've gotta hurry," Angel said impatiently from the door. "The longer we take-"

"We're _trying_, Angel," Judith said, pausing to adjust her grip again. "She's getting worse."

It was true. With each step closer, Marietta seemed to thrash with new vigor, like she didn't want to get near Angel. Just a few meters away, she actually began to dig her heels in against them.

"Damn it," Angel bit out. "Drag her by the wrists if you have to."

Judith shot him a glare, though she knew he was right. She took another step forward and yanked at Marietta's arm, jerking her forward. Then Marietta's arm wrapped around her neck and pressed against her windpipe.

Judith gagged, and she heard Angel and Claire shouting her name. Claire helped her pull at the arm, but either Marietta was weirdly strong or the thing inside her was getting stronger. Judith was going to go with the latter, although the decision really didn't help her at all.

She stumbled, gasping for air, heart pounding in her chest. She began to feel dizzy. Marietta's arm suddenly jerked at her and they stumbled forward a step. Judith looked up.

Claire was pulling them toward the doorway, straining so hard that sweat was trickling down the side of her face. Judith couldn't breathe and she was starting to see stars, but it occurred to her that if she was conscious, she could walk.

Marietta's arm was already fast against her neck, so what was a little more pressure? Judith helped pull Marietta forward, despite the now-sharp pain against her throat. It was just a few more steps to the door. Judith focused on each one, realizing that, this time, her life actually did depend on it.

Three more steps. Claire pulled harder, closing in on the doorway first to Angel, watching in helpless terror. Judith saw what Claire was trying to do, even though her vision was starting to blacken: if Claire could even get a wrist over the threshold, Angel would have Marietta.

Judith fell a step behind and then, because weight was the greatest force she had, threw herself against Marietta, pushing her forward that extra step as Claire pulled her other arm over the threshold.

Later, Judith wasn't sure if she'd actually fallen unconscious or if her brain had temporarily lost the ability to make new memories, but she woke on the floor of the entryway to Marietta's flat, her head in Claire's lap, and her throat aching.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief when Judith opened her eyes, and she realized that Claire was stroking her hair. Claire said something that Judith couldn't quite make out, and she groaned, looking around. The place was empty, and Angel was nowhere in sight.

"...help Mari," Claire's voice faded into Judith's awareness. She sat up slowly with Claire's help. "He didn't want to leave, but he didn't have much choice, did he?"

Judith looked at her, and her consciousness began to flood in, including memories of the last- However long since the phone call. "Help me up," she said, and Claire helped her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" Claire asked.

"I'll be fine," Judith said raspily, though she certainly wasn't yet. "Let's go."

Claire dipped under Judith's arm and supported her toward the door.

When they pushed open the door to Angel's flat, he looked up from where he'd been kneeling on the floor, apparently drawing a chalk circle around Marietta, who seemed more subdued now that the battle to stay out of Angel's grasp had been lost.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, dipping his fingers into a bowl of crushed herbs on the floor near his knee. Behind him on the apothecary table, his mortar and pestle were out, as were a few bags of herbs and several open books.

"Fine," Judith assured him, though her throat still croaked a little. "Marietta?"

Claire closed the door behind them and they approached the circle cautiously. Angel sprinkled the herbs in his fingers along part of the perimeter of the circle and answered, his voice also a little croaky, "Contained." He didn't say any more.

"How can I help?" Judith asked, drawing up beside him. Angel looked up at her thoughtfully, calculating in his mind what needed to be done and how fast and what of it he could delegate. After a second, he gave a small, decisive nod and stood up.

"Claire," he turned to her and she straightened attentively. Angel pointed to the bowl of herbs on the floor. "Finish lining the circle with that, but do _not_ break the chalk line. Not even if she starts begging you to. Until this is over, there is absolutely no reason that anyone but me should be breaking that circle. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Claire nodded, and Judith actually had to give her a little credit for not adding a salute. Angel glared at her, but turned to Judith and jerked his head toward the kitchen. She followed.

On the counter were already several ingredients, most of them in bottles, and there was a pot on the stove, though the burner wasn't lit. Another book lay open next to the bottles.

"I need you to make this for me," Angel said, pointing to the instructions in the book. "Everything you need is here. Follow the instructions _exactly_. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Where are you going?" Judith asked in alarm.

"I need to get something," Angel replied. "Shouldn't take long."

Judith swallowed and nodded.

Angel touched her shoulder gently. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"_Yes_," she insisted. "Go. Get whatever it is you need."

Angel nodded, turned, and left. Judith stepped up to the book on the counter, found the instructions, and let out a cry of despair.

"What?" Claire suddenly appeared at the kitchen doorway. "Should I call Angel back?"

"No," Judith said morosely. "No, it's fine…" She sucked in a deep breath and bit her lower lip.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked, approaching her with concern.

Judith nodded toward the book. "It's in Latin." She sighed. "I'll manage. It's just been a while." Judith studied Latin in college and in her post-graduate work because of her history concentration-her focus was in Native American studies, but she'd wanted to learn Latin anyway. Angel had lent her a few books in Latin over the years, which kept it fresh enough, but now was not the time for a test.

Claire asked if Judith needed help, but she shook her head. She just needed to concentrate, which of course would be easy in the middle of the night with one of her best friends in mortal danger and her neck still sore from an attempt on her own life…

Well, Angel _had_ set out all the ingredients she'd need. She counted them just to make sure, and they matched the number listed. So it was essentially a logic puzzle. A life and death logic puzzle.

Claire touched Judith's back gently before she left to watch over Marietta. Judith let out a shaky breath and set to work.

A bit of sage…that was easy. So was the drop of mercury. Angel had clearly marked each jar of liquid, so she figured out the "broth" without too much difficulty. Judith had to deduce a few other ingredients out through process of elimination, but she was mostly sure she got them right in the end.

The mixture was just beginning to steam when Angel returned. He swept into the kitchen and peered into the saucepan. "Looks good," he said. "Any trouble?"

"I don't think so… Did you get what you needed?"

Angel nodded curtly. "Do you still need the book?"

"No, I'm done."

Angel took it and left, and she could hear him rummaging about in the living room. The potion on the stove started to shimmer with pre-boiling bubbles, and Judith used her Palm to time seven minutes exactly, as the instructions had said. When it was done, she turned off the flames and returned to the living room.

Angel was on the floor near the circle again, this time lighting candles and adjusting stones around the perimeter. He glanced up briefly when she entered.

"It's ready, Angel," Judith said.

"Good." He nodded toward a clay bowl on one of his many bookshelves. "Strain it into that and bring it back. I think we're ready…"

Judith did as he said. When she returned, Angel was standing, taking mental stock of his work, and refused the bowl when she tried to give it to him.

"That's for you," he said.

"For _me_?"

"Well," Angel quickly corrected, "it's _for_ her, but you're going to give it to her."

Judith gave it a brief moment's surprised thought. "And what will _you_ do?"

"Hold her. She won't like it. Well, _Rankos_ won't like it."

"Rankos?" Judith asked.

"The demon that's possessing her."

"I see," Judith said weakly.

Claire approached from behind Judith and stopped on her other side. "So you're going to exorcise it?"

"Kind of," Angel replied. "Rankos is older than traditional exorcism rituals, so I'm changing it a bit. But same idea." He glanced at Judith. "I've got to be honest: it's probably too late."

Judith's stomach clenched. "So what are we waiting for?"

Angel grimaced slightly, as if she'd shouted at him. Judith frowned worriedly. Slowly, Angel reached into his pocket and drew out a glass vial as wide as her thumb and twice as long. It was filled with blood.

"Angel…" Judith said slowly. "Is that what you went out to get?"

"It's crucial," Angel explained. "The girl will be fine."

"You have blood in your fridge," she said coolly.

Angel hesitated again. "It had to be fresh. And virgin."

Judith breathed in deeply to calm herself. Now was not the time. Marietta needed them. "I don't want to know," she said, and held up the bowl of greenish potion. Angel uncorked the vial and poured the blood in. The mixture turned an unnaturally bright shade of red and began to steam as if they'd put it back on the heat.

Angel closed the vial and stuffed it quickly back in his pocket. "We'll have to work fast. I'll break the circle and go in first. Make sure she drinks the entire bowl, no matter what. When she screams, it's the demon, not her."

Judith bit her lip and nodded.

"As soon as it's gone, get out of the circle through the opening _only_." He paused. "Questions?"

"No," Judith said shakily, her heart hammering.

"Yes," Claire interrupted. "What can I do?"

Angel glanced down at Marietta's form, curled fetal and sweating. He shook his head. "Nothing, for now." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Ready?" he asked Judith, and she nodded. Claire moved to a place where she could better see what was happening, arms crossed and biting her lip in apprehension. Angel stretched out a foot and broke the line.

Almost too quickly for her eyes to catch-and with a surprised cry from Marietta that told Judith that she wasn't expecting such speed, either-Angel was kneeling behind Marietta, and in a furious flurry of movement, had maneuvered her into a position where she was sitting upright against him, her legs folded under her and locked between his knees, her arms twisted behind her back and held with one arm while he used his other hand to hold Marietta's head to his shoulder. Marietta tried to wrench free, but Angel held tight and told Judith to hurry.

Judith rushed into the circle, bent, and pressed the rim of the bowl to her friend's lips, but they were closed tightly shut.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Judith murmured as she took Marietta's jaw in one hand and tried to pry it open. Marietta glared at her, catching her eye and Judith jumped a little in shock: Marietta's eyes were blood-red. Not bloodshot: where her irises used to be a kind, soothing shade of dark chocolate, now they glowed, ruby-like and sinister. Growls rumbled deep inside Marietta and Judith bit her lip. It helped a little bit, terrifying as it was to hear coming from the friend that was known among their group for gentility. It sounded so alien, all Judith wanted to do was get it out.

Judith adjusted her stance and dug her fingers at Marietta's cheek where her teeth met, trying to pry them apart, but it was no good. She let out a short cry of frustration. Angel shifted a bit, either adjusting for Marietta's escape attempts or trying to figure out how to help get her jaw open. An idea struck Judith and she looked at Angel.

"It still needs her to breathe, right?"

It took a second for Angel to realize what she was getting at, but then his eyes lit up. "Yes. Good thinking."

And so Judith clutched Marietta's nose in her hand, pressing the soft parts together hard, and waited for the air in her lungs to run out.

It took longer than she expected; or maybe that was just her warped perception of time, when the little amount they had meant so much. Marietta's struggles and growls became more vehement at first, but then died away into something more feeble, but no less panicked. Judith apologized softly again. Finally, Marietta relented, and her mouth opened enough to let some air in. Judith seized the moment and dug her fingers into Marietta's cheek and between her teeth, propping her jaw open, and she tipped the contents of the bowl into her mouth.

Marietta convulsed and screamed. She tried to back away from the bowl, but her head was held tight against Angel's shoulder. She bit down hard on Judith's fingers, trying to get her to let go. Judith whimpered a bit at the pain, but it hurts more to bite down on one's own cheek, so she ignored it until Marietta gave up, tilting the bowl further still, funneling it down her throat through choking yells. She did not stop until the entire contents of the bowl, down to the gritty dregs, had been forced into Marietta's mouth.

"That's good," Angel said as Judith pulled the bowl away and extracted her fingers. "Go. Through the opening."

She left quickly and turned to watch Angel position himself so that when he let go, he could get out as fast as possible. He noted where he left the chalk on the floor and then, just as quickly as he went in, let go of Marietta, backed out of the circle, and completed it again. A bright light flashed around the circle and a shimmering wave like desert heat rose from the line up to the ceiling, and then faded away. Marietta whirled around angrily, coughing, with a trickle of the bright red potion dripping down her chin.

Judith watched through a daze as Angel seized the book and recited the lines written in it. She'd been asleep not too long ago, and now she was watching an intense magic ritual which would determine the life or death of one of her dearest friends. She had just brewed her very first, very poisonous potion to force down said friend's throat (which, if she'd failed in making it, could mean the failure of the entire process). Claire stepped up next to her and wrapped an arm around her. Judith leaned into her gratefully.

Angel was pacing around the edge of the circle as he said the lines from his book. Marietta said something raspy and unintelligible. Angel hesitated, but didn't respond.

Rankos' voice spoke through Marietta again, sounding like a grater dragging through flesh. It made Judith's skin crawl, and Claire shivered against her.

Angel ignored whatever it was Rankos had said.

The third time Rankos tried to speak, Angel finally yelled, "Will you shut _up?_" Bright yellow sparks spat out from the circle's line, stinging Marietta's arms. She cowered, but still snarled at him.

Angel continued the incantation with a raised pitch, and Judith stiffened, watching him. She trusted Angel more than she probably should. She did not doubt what he was doing. But it felt like they were coming to the end of the trial and the verdict would soon be coming in. Would Angel's efforts be good enough? Would hers?

Angel said his last words and closed the book with a snap. He and Marietta caught each other's eyes and waited. Judith had almost forgotten to breathe and every single muscle fiber in her body was tense with apprehension.

And then Marietta gasped and screamed one last time. A dark red cloud poured out of her gaping mouth and swirled around the inside of the circle. The cloud grew thicker and larger; soon, Marietta completely disappeared inside it.

The cloud swirled faster, gathering speed like a storm and then it began to condense and take form: a towering, muscular, quite _ugly_ figure. There were even horns. The cloud solidified completely and became bone, flesh, and dark red skin that looked severely burnt. Rankos extended his clawed hands to examine them and Claire let one arm go of Judith to clap a hand over her silently-screaming mouth. They backed away several steps.

Judith had seen demons at the Dragon's Crown, and once or twice in more dire situations. She'd come to expect that depictions of demons with red skin and horns were like pictures of witches with green skin and warts: popular fantasy of the human mind. Apparently, they were actually based in ancient fact. Rankos, overwhelmingly huge with sharp yellow teeth and eyes that seemed to be made of fire itself, could have come out of a book that gives children their first introduction to the idea of Hell.

Rankos looked down at Marietta, who was unconscious at his feet, and then turned to face Angel.

"Thank you," he said in a voice that sounded like hardening lava. "I have not had the use of my own body in a very long time…"

"It won't last," Angel said.

"No," Rankos agreed. "Physical form never does. But it will suffice for a while." Rankos tilted his head curiously at Angel and said, "I must have been mistaken," he said slowly. "A fallen hero, then? That _is_ a lovely plot twist. But if you were hoping to conquer the world with me, I am afraid I must disappoint you."

Angel stared at Rankos a moment, then turned away and strode toward the wooden chest where Judith knew he kept his weapons.

"It's not that I'm not _grateful_ that you freed me, of course," Rankos continued. "I am merely old and set in my ways. I hope you won't hold it against me as I kill you. Tell me, though—"

But Angel whirled around with a gleaming sword in hand and Rankos stopped in surprise. Then he smiled and chuckled amiably.

"Young man, I am a child of the gods of old. Mere mortal weaponry cannot harm me."

Angel's expression was still blank as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a second vial of blood. Rankos eyed it warily and watched as Angel thumbed off the cork, which fell to the floor in several dull thuds and rolled away. Angel lifted the vial up to the point of the sword and slowly poured the blood over the steel. Several drops fell to the floor, but most of it ran down the blade, coating it all the way to the hilt.

Finally, Angel spoke. "I hope you liked that I added some of this to your potion," he said, slipping the vial back into his pocket, now twisting the sword slowly, watching the blood coat more of the steel.

Rankos smiled at Angel coldly, but his eyes watched the blade in growing apprehension. "I enjoyed the taste as much as you did, I'm sure. She had a bit of licorice, don't you think?"

Seemingly satisfied with the blood-covered sword, Angel straightened, squaring his shoulders. "I really couldn't have made this work, otherwise," Angel said as if he hadn't heard Rankos' reply. "Because you're right: Mortal weapons can't hurt you."

"Ah," Rankos said suddenly, tensing. "But blood magic can."

"Bingo," Angel said as he strode up to the circle, the sword high behind his shoulder and dripping blood as he walked. Rankos didn't have time to do more than lift a heavy arm, because without hesitation, Angel smeared the line with his shoe, his sword already swinging through the air even before the flash of a shimmer around Rankos fell away. Flinging droplets of blood as it arced toward Rankos' thick neck, the sword sliced clean through it. The demon's body collapsed across Marietta's legs, the head rolling away toward the bookshelves.

"See?" Angel said mostly to himself. "Sometimes it can be nice and easy… No big fight, no broken furniture…"

There was brief moment of deadly silence where Angel stood, towering over Marietta, a dripping, bloody sword in hand. He was clearly exhausted, his imposing posture slipping as he the realization that the imminent danger had passed sank in. They'd won the battle against Rankos, but Marietta…

Judith extracted herself from Claire's arms and hurried across the room, Claire close behind. Angel dropped to his knee, setting the sword aside, and placed two fingers against her carotid artery as they drew level. Right away, Judith knew that it was a bad sign-Angel didn't usually need to feel to detect a pulse. His fingers dug further into her neck, searching. He leaned in to listen more closely. Judith and Claire held their breaths, waiting…

Angel started. "There," he said, straightening up suddenly. "She's alive."

"Oh god," Claire breathed in relief, and Judith reached over and squeezed her hand.

Angel hauled Rankos' body off of Marietta and picked her up. "Get the door."


	5. Chapter 5

**Safety**

After Angel took Marietta to the hospital, which was just across the street, he rushed back home, saying something about needing to get a few things. The hospital staff wheeled Marietta away quickly, leaving Judith and Claire suddenly alone and waiting for news.

Angel returned before the doctors did, a travel mug in hand, asking for the direction they'd taken her, and dashing off before they could ask what or why.

They waited again, holding each other's hands for comfort. Judith's agitation was a quiet one: mostly internal and cultivated from growing up in a family that didn't show emotions. Claire, on the other hand, showed her agitation in fidgeting, muttering to herself and to Judith, asking questions and making up stories for what could be happening with Marietta at that moment. Several times, she got up to pace for a while until she calmed down enough to sit again and take Judith's hand.

Eventually, Angel returned, looking more exhausted than before. Judith and Claire stood up.

"Well?" Claire demanded before Judith got a chance to.

Angel nodded once, as if it cost him great effort. "She'll make it."

Judith and Claire let out deep, relieved, shaking breaths, and Judith embraced Angel. She hadn't noticed Claire move forward at the same time until she also embraced Angel. Angel tensed uncomfortably, but wrapped one arm around Judith and patted Claire's back.

"Thank you," Judith said eventually.

"You helped," Angel said quietly. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Judith pulled away, which prompted Claire to pull away, also, and she gave Angel a small smile. "You're exhausted," Judith told him. "Go home."

Angel started to say something that looked like a protest-or at least an offer of support-but Judith cut him off. "The sun's coming up anyway."

Angel glanced toward one of the windows, as though surprised he hadn't noticed, and nodded. That was all the goodbye they said, and Claire and Judith went to sit back down and wait for the doctor in silence.

* * *

They sat at Marietta's bedside all day, taking turns napping or getting coffee. By mid-afternoon Marietta finally awoke. A new doctor had just come on rotation who didn't understand the notes from the previous doctor in the chart (who, apparently, knew Angel and had left her notes purposefully vague and benign), and asked several questions that none of them knew how to answer.

"You're not anemic, you're not hypoglycemic, you're not running a fever…" the young male doctor was saying. "You came in severely dehydrated, but that does not explain the heart rate of 28 and death-like coma, which, honestly, you shouldn't have come out of. I need an honest answer about the drugs, ma'am."

"She's clean, doctor," a deep voice said from the doorway, and everyone turned. Angel stood there, looking only somewhat more rested, his body still slumping more than usual. "I explained the situation to Dr. Mandel. She's taking responsibility for this patient."

"Not while I'm on duty," the doctor shook his head. "She's my patient while I'm here and it's my license on the line. I can't proceed until I have more information."

"Then I suggest calling Dr. Mandel," Angel replied. "Sort it out with her."

The young man sighed. "Look," he said tiredly, "I'm under the same confidentiality laws as Dr. Mandel. Whatever you told her, you can tell me."

There was a brief but deep silence in the room. Then Angel asked, "Doctor, can I speak with you privately a minute?"

The young doctor sighed and agreed, and they left the room. Judith, Claire, and Marietta looked at each other in their absence, and Judith went to sit on Marietta's bedside. She took her hand. "He'll sort it out," she promised. She had no idea how...but he would.

"I'm sure…" Marietta muttered under her breath.

A few minutes later, Angel returned alone and shut the door behind him. He didn't say anything about the young doctor, and none of them asked. Angel approached the bed cautiously, eyeing Claire a bit nervously as he passed her.

"How are you?" he asked Marietta, stopping on the other side of the bed from where Judith sat.

"Oh…" Marietta said slowly, partly due to her daze and utter exhaustion. "Better than can be expected, I suppose. Judith and Claire tell me I nearly…" she swallowed, seemingly unable to deal with the concept of her own death.

"You should have," Angel replied, Judith thought a little bluntly.

Marietta nodded, but then turned a little green, as if the motion made her dizzy. "Well…" she said softly. "Thank you, then."

Angel nodded also. A heavy silence fell. Angel shifted a bit awkwardly, and Judith wondered if he was going to leave again. She spoke before he had the chance to decide,

"We're not sure what we're going to tell Jack-Marietta's husband." Angel looked over at her. "He's with his ill mother in London," she explained. "We don't know when he'll be back, but either way, he'll see the insurance statement. If you have ideas..."

Angel looked away thoughtfully, and after a moment, said, "I'll take care of it."

Marietta frowned, brow furrowed in confusion. "Take care of what? _You're_ going to call my husband?"

"No," Angel replied. "I've got contacts. I can pull favors. You were never here."

A stunned silence followed.

"If you want," Angel added hastily. "You could also just tell him you contracted an abnormally high fever. Up to you."

Marietta was silent for a long while before she told him she would think about it. Angel nodded and then turned to go.

"Oh," he said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Here." He pulled out of his pocket a small bag of some sort of powder and dropped it on the table beside Marietta's bed. "Take two spoonfuls in hot water three times a day. It should help."

Marietta nodded, eyeing the bag.

Judith thanked Angel, and he nodded. "I'm going to go to sleep," he told them, sounding so tired that he might have meant standing up right there, "but you can still call if you need anything."

"What were you doing this whole time if not sleeping?" Judith asked, hoping her tone didn't sound too maternal; after all, she had _told_ him to go to bed.

"Had to get the demon's body out of my living room," Angel replied, glancing at her. "And then scrub the blood off my floor. And then I realized that would help," he nodded toward the bag of powder he'd given Marietta, "but I had to get a few ingredients…"

Looking impressed, Claire asked, "And you did this all during the day?"

Angel gave her half a smile. "Between sewers and the necrotempered windows in my car, it's much easier these days than it used to be." He gave one last glance around the room like looking for more questions, and when there were none he gave a little nod and left.

Both Claire and Marietta turned to look at Judith, and she understood. Sighing, she said, "I guess I have some explaining to do…"

* * *

Something about the ensuing question and answer session-which ended up being over an hour long-must have scared Marietta into wanting to avoid any questions from her husband that even glanced in the direction of the supernatural world, because she later decided to take Angel up on his offer to pull a few favors.

She was subdued through the entire discussion-due in large part to recovering from her near-death experience-and took each of Judith's words with a frown that oscillated with meaning from pensive to disapproving.

Claire, on the other hand, became progressively more interested as the conversation went on, her eyes lighting up with wonder, thrill, and the occasional jealousy. Judith was not sure which reaction was worse.

She explained about Angel, his unique moral stance (for a vampire), how she and William actually knew him, and what his true age was (Marietta thought that 476 was much better than 29, but Claire was not so sure). She told them about how Angel had saved her life once or twice, and her son's even more often. She told them about how Angel had become more of a father to William than Sam, even though he never wanted it. She told them about how she and Angel became friends; how they found a common respect for ideas and attitudes despite the stark differences of their lives.

It was this part of the conversation that Judith had the hardest time keeping her voice from shaking as she watched carefully for the signs that her friends finally realized the magnitude of the situation...and the judgment that would surely (and _should_) come with it. After all, she'd lied to them for years, and the lie had nearly led-again-to a friend's death. She was sleeping with a vampire; a creature literally created from Hell to kill, torture, ravage, and generally destroy the human population. There were circumstances, of course, but that didn't mean that she still wasn't on intimate terms with someone who had actually _done _all of those things.

And finally, she explained why she'd decided not to follow her friends' advice to take the emotionally-safe route out the whole new sleeping-together situation. It wasn't quite the _real_ reason. The real reason involved deeply personal things about herself, of which she was only just starting to become aware. Things that involved the psychological traumas of being partly responsible for the death of a best friend, which she needed to work out on her own before talking about. But it was a good enough reason.

"I've lived most of my adult life doing the practical thing," she told them. "I don't want the rest of my life to be so predictable."

Claire accepted this encouragingly and Marietta reluctantly, but both agreed to support Judith's decision and help deflect their other friends' curiosity. Having their support on that front alone was enough to make Judith feel like a great weight had been lifted, and as the next several days passed and she caught up on her rest, she started to look forward to her social visits with her friends for the first time in weeks.

When they had finished their conversation, all three of them exhausted, Judith and Claire left Marietta to fall back asleep. Claire went home to do the same and Judith found herself waiting alone for the next tram to come along that would take her to her flat. Her mind felt numb even though it was still running at high speed, drained of energy but not of things to process.

When the next tram came along, Judith saw that it was not the one she needed to get home, and in the exaggerated despair of having to wait the few minutes for the next one, she crossed the street after it passed like going to Angel's had been the plan all along.

Shortly thereafter, she knocked softly on his door. She expected him to still be asleep, and didn't wait long before pressing her thumb to the lock. It clicked open and she went in.

Judith stopped at his bedroom door, peering into his den. It was dark, as usual, but the heavy curtains had drifted open just enough to let a single ray of sun in, like a crack in the back of a cave. Angel's sleeping form at the far end of the room was silhouetted by it, the ray illuminating the edge of his pale, half-bare back like a cloud's silver lining. He was slightly curled toward the middle of the bed with the covers pulled lazily up to his chest like an animal that had given up halfway through circling its nest. He didn't breathe at all, which Judith now knew meant that he was well and truly asleep.

She went softly across the wood floor to the near side of the bed and leaned over to touch his shoulder; hating to disturb him, but hating the thought of turning around and going home alone more. Angel tensed and stirred, breathing in suddenly and deeply (smelling, she realized), then squinted open his eyes.

She didn't really know what to say. She was so tired of talking, and she didn't even really know why she was there. Silent company, she supposed. Solidarity? She was too tired to think about it.

"Can I stay a while?" she found herself asking.

The corner of Angel's mouth twitched as if he were trying to smile, but was too tired. Perhaps as a second attempt, he gave a single nod, and then his hand slid out from under the covers, took hers, and tugged gently. Judith let him guide her up onto the bed, sliding her shoes and coat off as she did. She settled in next to him under the covers, her back leaning low against the mahogany headboard while his arm wrapped around her waist.

She ran her fingers gently through his hair, relaxing into the safety of his firm hold. Her dark room of secrets was still there. People knew about it now, but they still couldn't get in. Shedding light at it didn't mean shedding light _in_ it.

It suddenly struck Judith how literal her own metaphor was in that moment. It was a dark room, indeed-though her eyes were adjusting now-and Angel was both a keeper of so many of her secrets and a secret himself. Not many could simply walk into his nest the way she had, and that meant that she was utterly safe. In the embrace of the dark room and the dark creature next to her, not even judgment could touch her, unless it were her own. And that was something she didn't want to think about.

It took a long time for the darkness to eat away her thoughts; a slow and involuntary process much like osmosis. As her mind slowed, her head dropped. A little too high to rest on Angel's head and too low to catch on any of the carved swoops the headboard, it wasn't exactly comfortable, but before she could decide to shift, she'd fallen asleep.

* * *

Judith woke with a terrible crick in her neck, and she winced painfully as she slowly straightened her head, easing out of the spasm. She reached up with a hand to support and massage the muscles, trying to remember where she was and why.

It came back suddenly, once she realized that she was in Angel's bed, his arm still wrapped around her waist and head pressed into her side. She'd come from the hospital, where Marietta was recovering, and Judith had felt so tired and vulnerable from the terror of the past day that she'd found herself seeking Angel instead of solitude.

It was dark outside now, but since it was winter, that was no indication for how late it really was. Judith twisted gently toward the clock on the nightstand behind her, trying to see it without waking Angel. She managed to see the clock (8:18pm), but not without waking Angel. He must have been close to it anyway, since she'd made more motion leaving his bed in the early mornings before and not woken him then.

"Sorry," she whispered as he rolled onto his back and stretched.

He made a grunting noise that sounded sort of like, _mm-mm_, which Judith wasn't sure if she should take for dismissal or mere acknowledgement.

Judith pushed herself up a bit higher against the headboard, wincing at her stiff muscles.

"Whassit…?" Angel mumbled, settling back into his pillow and draping an arm over his eyes. "Sometime after 8? 8:15?"

"Good guess," Judith told him.

"Mmno," he said, "position of the sun."

Judith had forgotten that he could sense where the sun was. He'd explained once, a long time ago, that every time he moved, he had to readjust to the latitude and season shifts to tell what time it was without a clock—not because of the light, but because of the sun's position in the sky. Noon felt different at the equator than it did above the Arctic Circle.

"Hungry?" Angel asked, his voice croaking with sleep.

Judith had been so worried all day that the thought of food had made her sick, but now that she was more relaxed, "Yes, actually."

Angel lifted the arm that was draped over his eyes and used his thumb to double-tap the ring on his middle finger. A holographic screen flickered onto his palm.

"What d'you want?" he asked. "Anything."

"Not _anything_…"

"Sure. I have beer and blood in my fridge, so it's got to be delivery."

"Oh, Delivery Dash," Judith said, understanding. She hadn't expected Angel to know about the delivery service that picked up orders from restaurants and delivered them anywhere in the city limits.

"Had to use it for the boys a few times," Angel explained.

Oh, that made sense. Well, now that a whole city of restaurants was open to her… She eventually decided on fettuccine alfredo from her favorite Italian restaurant, promising to pay him back.

Angel gave a little shrug. "I'll accept it in drinks," he told her as he tapped the Palm off and slumped back into his pillow.

"Deal," she agreed.

"How's Marietta?" Angel asked after a short moment of silence.

"It seems she'll be alright," Judith replied. "She'd like to take you up on your offer, if it still stands."

Angel nodded.

"I told them everything I could," Judith went on. "I think Marietta would like to be able to deny it all, so that's why."

Angel nodded again. "Makes sense."

"Does it? I'm worried."

"Why?"

"Denial isn't healthy," she said like it should be obvious.

"It's a natural part of the process," Angel replied. "Totally normal at this stage."

"Is it?" Judith bit her lower lip.

"Sure," Angel said confidently. "You were just weird in how you coped."

Judith laughed.

"Give it some time," Angel continued. "Like, not the day she almost died from demon possession."

Laughing again, Judith agreed that he had a point.

Angel smiled, rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was mussed on the left side where he'd slept against her. He groaned, like he'd just thought of something he had to do but didn't want to do it, and stretched gently again.

"Does it usually take you this long to wake up?" Judith asked as she watched him. They'd never seen the other's morning routines, having vastly different chronological definitions of "morning."

Craning his neck to look up at her, Angel replied with an ambivalent noise, "Depends on how much of a motivation I have to get out of bed. Right now…I have moderately compelling motivation."

"Really? What's that?"

"I have to pee."

Judith chuckled and told him that perhaps that was a good reason to get up, to which Angel reluctantly agreed. He turned over and literally rolled out of bed, his feet hitting the floor before the rest of him was fully upright, his movements lithe like a lazy cat.

Judith was somewhat surprised to find that he was fully nude, and she averted her eyes automatically, even though the room was still dark and it was hard to see much at all. Angel didn't seem to notice, though, still rubbing at his own eyes as he crossed to the bathroom and closed the door.

It was such a strange juxtaposition, Judith thought, pushing herself up even higher against the headboard to a full sitting position: friends and lovers both separately and simultaneously. Feeling embarrassed to see him naked now, even though she had on a half dozen occasions already and at those times feeling—well…not _comfortable_ in the familiar sense, but at least right about it. Lovers could see each other naked anytime. Strangers and friends could see each other naked in specific nonsexual circumstances – communal bathing and nudist beach and park areas, for instance. But in the privacy of homes and intimacy of bedrooms, it felt like a line was being crossed in their friendship, similar to the one that had existed when she'd tried on the corset.

When Judith and Angel were not actively engaged in sexual activities, their friendship was distinct. Wholly "friend-like." As it was before, except perhaps with some new memories and knowledge about the other. There had been no middle ground on which to walk naked across the room without having had sex first.

Until, Judith realized, she had walked in that afternoon and blurred the line.

Interesting.

The bathroom door opened and Angel came out again, looking more awake and running wet fingers through his hair, blindly trying to fix whatever sleep had done to it. He left the light on so that it streamed into the dark room, silhouetting him. Stepping up onto the end of the bed with his knee, he did a controlled sort of flop face down onto his pillow again, sighing in what sounded like relief.

Well, if the line was already blurred…

"Do you always sleep naked?" she asked, trying not to belie her hesitancy.

"Mostly," Angel's reply came muffled through the pillow.

He had such lovely curves, Judith observed; broad muscle strokes defined by strength. She could follow the path of his spine easily by the dense muscles on either side, holding each vertebra in place with flexible precision, upright from his neck to the bottom of his ribcage, and then dipping into his lower back. His gluteal muscles were firm and flowed seamlessly into well-defined legs, strong from use. The shadows cast from the bathroom light made the curves seem all the starker. He could have been an excellent study for an art class.

"Do you?" Angel asked after a moment, voice still muffled in the pillow.

"Hardly ever," she replied, reaching out to touch the tattoo on his shoulder. "Though lately I'm starting to see the appeal."

Untangling his arm from under the pillow, Angel stretched it out to wrap around Judith again, this time wrapping around her hips rather than her waist. The tattoo glided over the scapula as it moved, hugging the bone's curves with a sexy sort of taut fluidity. She fingered the lines, marveling at how uniform the skin felt. Judith had no tattoos herself and hadn't much occasion to really examine one before. Although she knew better, part of her expected to be able to somehow feel the ink or a change in skin texture.

Angel let her feel it, seeming to relax the longer her fingers dragged over his skin. He didn't do that with the brand, she'd noticed. She'd brushed over the sun-like mark with her lips once and noticed him flinch slightly under her, like he'd received an unexpected static shock. She hadn't yet gotten up the courage to ask about it, and hadn't gone near it again since.

"Does it need to be touched up?" Angel asked about the tattoo, turning his head toward her and unmuffling his voice.

"I can't quite tell in this light," she replied.

He nodded.

He'd seemed content with that, but Judith, finding that she was not, turned on the light beside her and looked more closely.

"I think it's fine," she said. "A few spots perhaps, but only on close inspection."

"Good," Angel replied. Now his voice was muffled against her side as she had leaned forward to look. "Thanks."

Judith settled back again, and her hand began to trace other invisible lines on his back. Angel's hand began to wander, too, exploring until he found the hem of her shirt and sliding under it. Her skin tightened pleasantly under his hand as his fingers traced similarly invisible lines on the side of her torso.

Of course, she knew this was where they were headed. They must, being alone in an already-intimate setting. It would have felt incomplete to share Angel's bed but not his body (especially now knowing it had been naked this whole time), even though that was far from the reason she came to his bed in the first place.

Angel knew it, too. Judith wasn't feeling especially libidinous, and she wasn't sure that Angel was, either, but she knew they both felt that something needed to happen to justify their current situation.

Angel pushed himself up on one arm and Judith had to adjust her arm around him to accommodate. His head reached the level of her chest, but his eyes were looking up into hers. "How much time do we have?"

_How quick do we have to be?_

Yes, given that it must happen, it should happen now. Best not delay too much longer. The line was already so blurred.

It was ironic that sex was their solution to un-blurring it.

But not that ironic, really, if she thought about it. They usually shared a bed after sex; this time they shared a bed before. It was only the order of things that was blurring the line.

Judith tried to figure out how much time had passed since she'd ordered the food. She tried not to wonder why she hadn't insisted on going home for dinner instead. She had to work tomorrow, after all; her uniform was there, her shower things...

"Fifteen minutes?" she guessed. That should be enough time.

Enough time to right the course again. To divide the intimacy between sex and friendship again. Afterward, they could have dinner in the kitchen, fully dressed, and talk about the Prime Minister's new cabinet or the Viking art exhibit that just came to the museum. Then she could go home, sleep in her own bed, and start the work week worrying about Marietta and Claire in the back of her mind instead lines she'd blurred.

Really, she decided as she sat up to pull off her shirt, this was the safer option.

* * *

Marietta was released from the hospital and had returned home before her husband. She made a recovery so thorough that, through his grief as just losing his mother, Jack Goldberg didn't notice Marietta's easy fatigability or the fading bruises on her arms where Angel had gripped her. Whatever was in the powder Angel had given her helped her so much that she actually went to see him on her own to thank him after she returned from attending the funeral in London.

According to separate reports from both Marietta and Angel, it apparently had taken most of the courage that Marietta had had at the time.

"Marietta," Judith had said exasperatedly, "I've told you, William used to visit Angel alone _all_ the time as a child. What were you so afraid of?"

Marietta had pulled herself up in her chair and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She had mumbled something that Judith couldn't catch, and Judith had asked her to repeat it.

Marietta had glared at her in a way that Judith was expecting something silly to be the reason, but when Marietta had repeated herself, it was with a cool smoothness that she said, "He scared Rankos, Judith. I don't see why I shouldn't be scared, too."

That gave Judith much to ponder in the coming weeks as she and Angel continued seeing each other. She couldn't deny Marietta's point, but at the same time…

Death seemed to surround Judith, and now even more literally as she let Angel wrap himself around her with his dead body (unalive body, Judith preferred to think of it), himself historically and ontologically a bringer of death.

And yet, if it weren't for Angel, she'd be attending a second funeral in as many months, grieving yet another loss for yet another friend. The death that surrounded her this time had brought life.

Maybe her curse was broken, she started to let herself hope. Maybe her first word hadn't been as prescient as she'd thought. Angel was safe from death; untouched by it.

Maybe he could lift death's finger off hers.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, I hope you leave a note saying so! The series continues with _And None Contented_.


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